Till Death Do Us Part
by An Cathal Toirmisce
Summary: AU: Edmund Martin and Lucy Rosenthal were married in Narnia. Their vows clearly said "'till death do us part." They were still alive, so it should have been easy. If only everything wasn't so bloody different in England. Edmund/Lucy, *NO INCEST*
1. To Narnia and Back Again

**A/N: Okay, people! Welcome to my newest fanfiction! I do have a few things to say at the beginning of this. One of them being that, because the majority of the story takes place in England, ****there will be several OCs****. I debated this for a long time, due to the fact that I usually LOATHE OCs, with very few exceptions. So, I decided to have fun with it. ****ALL of the OCs in this fic will be based on either someone from C.S Lewis's life or someone else from literature.**** Please try and guess who they are…it'll amuse me. **

**And this is AU. Nobody is related. Don't like it, don't read it. **

**The other thing I have to bring up is rating. I'm keeping it at T for the moment, but ****situations and the whole plot is a bit more risqué than what I usually write****—however, it's not up to the standard that most M rated fics have in them. (shudder) I refuse to write like that. However, at the very first request to** **shoot the rating up, I will without hesitation. It's going to be a while before the risqué stuff hits, however. **

**Also, updates will be slow. I'm warning you now. This summer is going to be a bit busier than most, and therefore, I might not have as much time to write as I'd like. And I want to be done with this when summer is over, so most likely, chapters will be longer than usual, as well. (Save for this one,) Just bare with me, si'l vou plait. **

**Okay, enough jibber jabber. On with the show. **

**Till Death Do Us Part**

**_Part One_**

_**Chapter One**_

Edmund was not sure if that was what his mother meant when she warned him that, someday, karma would get after him, but if it did not, he would hate to know what this karma-thingummy had in store for him. It was bad enough to have to move to the country—where nothing ever happens (at least the air raids in Finchley were _interesting_) but, of course, _she_ had to come along with him. It was just like a girl, and the annoying sort that Lucy Rosenthal was, to try to squash any sort of fun he might have while at this Professor's house.

He knew that Lucy was a pet of sorts of his mother's, but he did not know why his mother had made so sure that he and Lucy were arranged to go to the same countryside fellow for who knew how long. He had asked his mother why she liked Lucy so much once, but she had simply sucked in her dainty cheeks and said, "Because, Edmund, every one needs someone to care about them, and Lucy won't get that at home."

"Well, she has her own mum," Edmund had grumbled.

"Don't be rude. Mrs. Rosenthal has enough to worry about without having to keep track of Lucy."

Edmund was unsure about what his mother was talking about, however, when Miriam Martin got that look in her face, the only thing to do was drop the subject, or pray for mercy. He was too young to notice the telltale signs about his neighbors from across the street. How Mr. Rosenthal worked in the factories for long hours, and only seemed to come back drunk, and everyone in the neighborhood seemed aware that Mr. Rosenthal was a violent drunk, however, according to the garden clubs that Edmund's mother often hosted, everyone turned a blind eye. Or something like that. Edmund never actually sat in on the parties of women, but occasionally he would sneak about to swipe sweets from them.

However, whatever the life of his neighbor was like, Edmund was rather uninterested. Lucy irked him to no end. She seemed to be under the impression that they were great friends, though he had no idea why. For whatever reason, she would follow him up into trees or to the pitch when he would go to play. The worst part was, the harder he tried to get rid of her, the more she seemed to stick to his side like glue. If this happened at all while they were in the country, Edmund thought that he would go insane.

And his thoughts seemed to prove true, from the very beginning. Lucy showed up at the train station with a disgusting and ratty little stuffed dog in tow, and a new black eye. He didn't think much of it, she carried that stuffed dog with her sometimes, and it seemed as though she always had a black eye or a bruise of some sort. Immediately after a tearful goodbye to her mother, Lucy placed herself beside him and would not budge. In the least, Edmund was thankful that she did not try to hold his hand. He rolled his eyes; one would think that she had never been on a train before!

She followed him into the compartment in the train as well. It was empty, save for a blonde boy, perhaps thirteen years old, sitting in the corner, his face pointed down towards his book.

Edmund charged for the window seat, and put his suitcase on the seat, so he should distance himself between Lucy, and he made a point to stare out the window.

Only little girls cried, he insisted to himself, but he could feel his eyes burning when he reminded himself that his father had not come to see him off. His mother had made all sorts of excuses—he was working on a very important case, and if he did not win, it could mean death for an innocent man and a complete loss of reputation as a lawyer. His mother always made excuses for him.

It would not have been so awful, really, Edmund thought, if his father was not always promising to do things with him. He would not have held his breath to play ball with his father if his father had not said, "Yes, son, I'll meet you at the pitch on my lunch hour," and never showed.

Or, he thought, it wouldn't be so terrible if his father just learned to stay away. The half-there, half-away presence that he often gave was, to put a word to it, smothering. If he wasn't such a fantastic father when he had the time for Edmund; that would have been easier. Instead, Edmund was stuck always with this routine of broken promises, followed by good fun on a Sunday or after a case was solved, and then his mother, who was too busy on her projects to play with him, besides the fact that she didn't get her hands dirty unless she was gardening. The children of Finchley sometimes played with him, but not on a usual basis. To sum it up, he was often left alone.

Edmund must have dozed off, because he found himself jolting awake to that disgusting, old stuffed dog in his face. Lucy was kneeling on the seat beside him, with a stupid grin on her face, offering the dog to him, perhaps as a peace offering or a symbol of friendship.

Slowly, Edmund took it, examined it closely, but finding no use for it, and deciding to be cruel, tossed it to the ground.

Lucy pouted, sighed, and Edmund rolled his eyes, but the boy across from them in the compartment, folded the page over in his book, snatched the dog off the ground, and gave it back to Lucy.

"Don't worry," he said to Lucy, smiling. "It'll be better loved with you anyway."

Lucy smiled. "Thank you."

"My name's Peter," the boy said. "Peter Kingsley. Where are you and your brother headed?"

"She's not my sister," Edmund said, sitting up straighter in the chair. "We're neighbors. I'm Edmund, and this is Lucy"

"And, we're headed to a Professor Kirke's house." Lucy put in, and for whatever reason decided to add, "I'm nervous, I've never been on a train before."

Peter nodded sympathetically. "It can be scary the first time, I remember. And, I'm headed to the exact same place! I suppose we'll all be roommates for a while, then."

Lucy seemed to be excited from this idea, and Edmund, too, was intrigued. This, possibly, could give him a sort of older brother, and maybe that could be a replacement for his father not even saying good-bye. There was no real logic to it, other than the idea that he would finally get a male companion to look up to, and that was enough for him.

XxxxxxxxX

The professor lived in a great wide house, larger than the eyes could see, it seemed. There were too many windows to count, at least a dozen chimneys, and his land seemed to stretch on forever**. **It was the kind of house that one could live in their whole life and still get lost in. As Peter, Edmund and Lucy wandered aimlessly through the foyer entrance to the house, while the housekeeper, Mrs. Macready, prattled off rule after rule, the three children wandered about, mouths agape. Lucy had always thought that the only person with a nicer house than the Martins was the Queen herself, obviously, she had been wrong. Edmund, though he lived in a house often described as a mansion, was still blown away.

A tall, willowy man stood at the head of the stairs, waiting for the three children. Large spectacles covered his shocking blue eyes. Lucy jolted and almost hid behind Peter. Edmund snatched a handkerchief out of his pocket and proceeded to pretend to blow his nose, lest the fellow realize that he was really laughing at his appearance.

"Welcome," the Professor said. "I hope your ride was pleasant. Thank you, Mrs. Macready, for showing them this far, but I think Susan would rather show the children where their rooms will be."

As though on cue, an extremely pretty young girl came bounding down the steps, her beautiful curls bouncing with each step she took. "I'm sorry I'm late, Uncle." She said, in a voice that suggested an eleven or twelve year old, but in a tone that suggested twenty.

"Ah, here she is." The Professor said. "Susan, these are the children who will be staying with us, Peter Kingsley, Edmund Martin, and Lucy Rosenthal. Peter, Edmund, and Lucy, this is my goddaughter, Susan."

They all smiled at Susan, save for Edmund, who found all girls annoying at this point, and preferred to stare at the tiles on the floor. After the introductions were gone, Susan led the three children up the staircase and through a hall. They must have passed at least a dozen before they came to the one that Susan led them through. On the left, she gestured, was where Peter and Edmund were to stay. On the right, herself and Lucy would have to share. She suggested they part and change before supper. "Also," she said, "there's a study of sorts that we can be in, it's right next to my and Lucy's room. There's a lot of books and a radio in there, if you're interested."

"I think I'd rather explore," Peter said. "I get the feeling that this house is the sort where we can do absolutely anything."

Susan raised her eyebrow. "I wouldn't know, I haven't tried."

"It's getting late for tonight," Peter said, "But I think that, tomorrow, we should all take a good look around the grounds of this place. There's bound to be acres and acres."

Lucy readily agreed, Edmund followed suit, somewhat reluctantly, and Susan nodded eventually.

However, the next day, the sky filled with gray clouds from the beginning, and rain poured out from them in buckets. Therefore, the four children sat in the study. Lucy looked forlornly out the window, occasionally touching her tender, blackened eye. Susan sat on the sofa, with a large dictionary on her lap. "Gastro vascular," she read. When Peter seemed less than enthusiastic, she repeated, "Come on, Peter, gastro vascular."

Peter moaned. "Is it…Latin?"

"Yes,"

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Is it Latin for, 'the worst game ever invented?'"

Susan glared at the younger boy and snapped the dictionary shut, whereupon Lucy stood up and, walking towards her friends made the suggestion that would forever change their lives. "We could play hide-and-seek."

XXXXXXXXXxx

There is another story. A story about a Lion who dies in place of a traitor, and then saves a magical land called Narnia from the hands of an evil witch. Although that is a wonderful story, and certainly one worth telling, it is not this story. However, it s certainly of interest to this story, that the traitor from the other story, was none other than Edmund Martin.

He had almost sold Peter, Susan, and Lucy out to the Witch, and was sentenced to death due to Narnia's Deep Magic. Aslan, the Great Lion, however, stood in his place, and died for him. The Lion returned to life, through Deeper Magic, thus Narnia was restored to peace.

The four children, also, became Kings and Queens of this land, in accordance with prophecy; they grew up, with all the pitfalls of anyone growing and even got married. The monarchy was split, as contradictory as that sounds, among the four royals; High King Peter Kingsley, the Magnificent and his wife, Queen Susan Annis-Kingsley the Gentle and King Edmund Martin the Just, with his wife, Queen Lucy Rosenthal-Martin the Valiant. They were all young and spirited, but also good rulers, and together, they kept Narnia in the delicate balance needed for such an age wonderful enough to be regarded as Golden. The most striking fact about the monarchs, however, was that they, unlike their subjects of fauns, satyrs, Minotaurs and whole scores of Talking Beasts, were human. For, they originally had come from a land called England, far away and entirely unmagical, although they had no living memory of living in England. However, England was going to call them back, unbeknownst to them.

Once, fifteen years into their reign, the four royals received word that the White Stag was spotted in the Western Wood. It was said that if the stag was caught (not hurt or killed, mind you, merely caught and kept alive), he would grant a single wish to the catcher. It was known for being incredibly fast, and gone in a flash, and almost impossible to find. Nevertheless, if you did so, you best make sure your wish was a good one.

The royals, while they mutually decided they did not need anything in a wish (for, truly, they had everything they needed, and nearly everything they desired), but they thought it would be great fun, and traditional (for other kings and queens had done this in the past) to go out and search for the stag themselves. Thus, they set some of their most faithful friends in charge of their castle, the Great Cair Paravel, and swore to be back in a week. Here is where this tale begins.

Many people did not know it, but Lucy the Valiant had a reason for wanting to find the White Stag. Her life was not unsatisfactory; on the contrary, it was quite the opposite. She accepted her responsibilities as queen of Narnia and used her power for what she thought to be right; she loved her husband, Edmund the Just, more than air or water. She did love her life, and would never ask for, or want, a do-over. However, even with all this, she still wanted something. It was not as though she was a greedy person, in fact, what she wanted was as much for Edmund as it was for her. In actuality, it was as much for Narnia as it was for both Edmund and for her.

What she wanted, in actuality, was a baby. She and Edmund had been trying for three years, but had never come close. Queen Susan could never seem to stop getting pregnant, having only just announced a fourth pregnancy, and while Lucy did not want to be jealous, she couldn't help but be put down by the whole matter.

Either way, if she were to find the white stag, she would wish as hard as she could for her and Edmund to finally have a baby.

She galloped among her friends, the High King Peter and his wife, Queen Susan, and her husband, feeling the breeze on her face; laughing all the while. It felt as though she was flying; soaring high above the clouds.

Peter was at the head of the group, and Lucy kicked her horse to catch up, and possibly pass, the High King. Susan rode directly behind her, also trying to advance, though with a far more delicate demeanor than Lucy. All four of them always raced whenever they went off on their steeds, if it was appropriate to do so. By the time she reached him, however, he had stopped and was craning his head over backwards.

"Where'd Ed go?" he asked when the two women were nearer.

Looking backwards, Lucy saw that Edmund was nowhere to be seen.

"Philip probably got tired. Perhaps he really should've stayed back." Susan said, smiling.

At this, Lucy chuckled and shook her head. Earlier that day, Edmund had attempted to act overly masculine and said that she and Susan should stay behind. He usually got like that during the short time a month when it was unsure if Lucy was pregnant or not, and therefore the women did what they always did when Edmund got in one of those moods; they ignored him.

The three monarchs turned round on their horses and trotted back carefully, so as to sneak up on the fourth.

Through the trees, Lucy could hear her husband and his friend, a talking Horse called Philip, muttering to one another.

"Is something wrong, Philip?" Edmund asked.

Philip heaved as he panted out, "I'm not as young as I once was."

By this time, Susan was trotting into the little clearing where Edmund and Philip had halted. "Come on, Ed!"

"Just catching my breath," Edmund said, far too abruptly.

"Well, that's all we'll catch at this rate!" Susan teased.

Lucy came into through the trees, and continued with the fun, "What did he say again, Susan?"

Using a deeper voice in a rather impressive mimic of Edmund, Susan grinned and quoted, "'You girls wait at the castle, I'll get the stag myself!'"

At Edmund's slightly embarrassed expression, all three of the others began to laugh. Lucy met eyes with her husband, and grinned wider. To this, he, too, had to smile. Obviously he wasn't as amused as the others, but from the way he shook his head, he was in good humors.

Suddenly, Peter dismounted off his chestnut-colored stallion, "What's this?" he asked.

Lucy wrinkled her brow, and followed suit in dismounting. She hadn't noticed that queer lamppost in the middle of the wood before, all covered in leaves and ivy. Something about it seemed like almost like déjà vu.

Speaking her thoughts, Peter said, "It seems familiar, doesn't it?"

Susan nodded. "As if from a dream."

Not thinking about it, something clicked inside of Lucy's head. Images flashed through her head; some horrible—a man stomping towards her with a slim-necked bottle in his sweaty grip, a younger version of herself holding onto a tired-looking young woman while a queer horn blew in the distance. Some, however, were wonderful; that same young version of herself running down a staircase with thoughts of Father Christmas, or running into a brightly lit study towards a warm-looking man smelling of soap and tobacco and the only thought in her little head being _Uncle Jack! _However, the most predominate was that of her walking through that very wood, in the middle of winter, wearing a funny-looking dress, not believing her own eyes.

With these queer thoughts running through her mind, she barely heard herself as she murmured, "Or, a dream of a dream."

Suddenly, in memory, she remembered looking back to the pine trees behind herself, and seeing a thin light, as if from a torch, coming out from between the trees. "Spare Oom?" she said, thinking the phrase sounded very familiar.

She turned around quickly, curiosity taking hold of her. Thoughts were running through her head, so many memories that seemed more dreamlike than real. She heard the others call out for her, and even Susan mutter, "Not again!" under her breath, but she just kept on going.

"Come on!"

They walked on through the trees, Lucy leading the way, and not even thinking about it. Memories continued to flood her mind. The angry man with a bottle screaming and slamming a scratched door behind him, the incredible thrill of opening a paper package and discovering a small, paperback book of fairytales in front of her. More continued to come, little snippets of something that seemed out of place

Suddenly, a great piece of brown fur stood right in front of her nose. Lucy almost stepped backwards to apologize to whatever talking Beast she was about to run into, but then she realized it was not an animal at all, talking or dumb. Why, it was a coat! There were more of them, directly behind her, and thus, Lucy pressed onward.

The forest got steadily narrower and darker, and suddenly the four royals were pressed together, apparently not in the forest at all, but as though packed into a tiny room, or, perhaps, a wardrobe!

"Susan, you're on my foot!"

"Peter! Move over!"

"Would you stop shoving!"

"Get off!"

"I'm not on your toe!"

Lucy had no idea where she was going, in fact, she was not moving at all anymore. The memories had stopped, suddenly, being like déjà vu, and she remembered details along with them. And she felt a lot smaller. Suddenly, she wanted to go back.

All four of them were shoving around, attempting to move, and suddenly, with a great burst of light, they were all falling down, onto hard wood flooring.

Lucy blinked a few times, finding herself belly-down on the floor, beside Edmund. When she looked towards her husband, however, she half wanted to scream. His face was considerably chubbier than only a minute ago, his hair had become close-cropped, and his eyes young, freckles stood on his face.

He was ten-years-old again. Lucy looked down at herself and gulped. She was dressed in a child's gown that would have seemed so queer earlier that day; her hair was short, and suddenly she just realized that she was a child. All four of them found that they had become children yet again. They were all so petrified they could not say anything at all.

Suddenly, the door ahead of them creaked open, and the tall, spindly Professor Kirke wandered in, and jolted, as if startled, once the old man recuperated, he asked, with a cheeky grin, "What are you children doing inside the wardrobe?"

Peter looked around to his wife, and then to the others and said shakily, "You wouldn't believe us if we told you, sir."


	2. The Martins

**/!\ This chapter contains a short scene with child abuse. Reader's discretion is advised. **

"I don't like this," Edmund mumbled that night, looking sourly out the window at the Professor's vast property, "I want to go back."

Lucy stepped forward and nudged Edmund in the side, jerking her head back to Susan and Peter, who were sitting side by side, on the floor, staring at nothing. The children had told their tale to the Professor, only briefly, before Susan suddenly turned as white as snow in sudden remembering; she had been pregnant when they left. Not only that, but she and Peter had left behind three other children.

Susan snapped to attention, her eyes wet, "Well, Edmund, it isn't exactly like we're on holiday, now is it? I'm thirteen, and I have three other kids in another universe! And I was pregnant again…it feels like I miscarried."

"Well, Lucy couldn't have a baby, either!"

"That's not the same thing, Edmund!"

"It's not as though I'm not upset about this—" Edmund argued.

"Edmund…" Lucy began, grabbing his hand. However, when his head snapped back to see what she had to say, the eight-year-old found words dying on her tongue; she had no idea how she should react to any of it.

Peter stood up, and grabbing Susan's hands, dragged her to her feet. "Look, I doubt it's going to do any good to sit around and argue about this. We can't change a thing. And besides, we're too young to be having these conversations. I think we should see how much we remember. I don't think I could explain how to use swords anymore…" Something struck him, and the fourteen-year-old turned slowly to the youngest girl in the room. "Say, Lu? Do you remember…how…to…be married?" he grew red in the face. "Susan, could you help me phrase this?"

Susan sighed, frustrated, "Lucy, you remember that you and Edmund had been trying to have a baby, right?" When the younger girl nodded, Susan asked, "So, you do remember what you had to do to have the baby, right?"

The young girl wrinkled her brow, and then, as though a light flicked on in her head, she nodded. Almost immediately after this, her face wrinkled up into something akin to disgust as she flashed her head to Edmund.

Edmund looked equally as shocked, and as he looked the little girl up and down, he had to bite his tongue to prevent from letting the ten-year-old part of him say something like, "Ew."

This moment of surprising tact sent thoughts spiraling through Edmund's brain. It seemed as though there were two people stuck inside his little body. One part of him was truly a child: still impish and juvenile. Yet, something seemed to be fading in and out of his mind. Inside of him, there was part of him that was still a man. The more he concentrated on it, the more he began to think older. Suddenly, he remembered all the miniscule details about a day in the life of Narnia. Some ideas of strategy came back, and with that, in an even heavier feeling than anything a child could ever experience, and it reminded him of how much the adult Edmund loved Lucy, and it showed him that the world without Lucy would seem a hell. The younger part of him would have laughed at the romantically silly thought, if it did not seem so real.

The next day, Edmund found himself pushing Lucy on a tree swing, watching birds soar through the blue skies, and he found himself asking quietly, "What do you think we'd be doing if we were still in Narnia?"

Lucy skidded her shoes into the dirt, bringing the swing to an abrupt halt. She turned her head slowly towards him, and, without answering his question, said what was on her mind, quietly. "We really loved each other, didn't we? I do wish we didn't have to give it up."

"Maybe we don't have to." Edmund said abruptly, without thinking.

With her eyes brightening, Lucy asked, "Do you have an idea?"

"Not a very good one," Edmund admitted. "Look, so we know that when we go back, we'll live right across the street from each other—if home's still there, that is. But, anyway, the one thing we can control about this whole situation is us. We're partners, right? So, what I'm saying is," he focused in on the part of him that was still an adult; he found it so odd to be talking like this, however, he said, "we can still support each other, and then when we're old enough, if we want to get married again, we will. But, the important part is that we're in this together."

"You don't sound ten years old." Lucy smiled softly.

"Neither do you." Edmund paused, and then corrected, "Sound eight, I meant."

"All right," Lucy nodded. "We're in this together—for better or worse, just like we promised." 

XXXXXXXX

Lucy woke in a cold sweat. Memories of her own life came flooding to her like a hurricane. Her memory came to her in sleep, a nightmare of sorts, made even more terrifying by the realization that it had happened before.

In her dream, she was yanked out of bed by her hair; lifted off the mattress in one large fist. With large eyes, Lucy could see the form of her father, sweating out whiskey. "Geddout." He yelled towards her.

Lucy merely whimpered as she hit the floor, a large patch of her hair ripped out of her head, and scuttled into the sitting room.

Helen came running into the room. "What are you doing?" she shrieked, as Lucy ran to hide behind her.

"That brat's ain't mine. Ain't it?" He slurred.

"No, of course she's yours!" Helen said. "I was seventeen…it was hard enough to go to be with you! I'd never…"

Grabbing his wife by the shoulders, the drunken man slammed Helen over the sofa. Screaming out, "Whore! Slut!"

"Stop hurting her!" The then-six-year-old Lucy screamed, only to find a meaty fist in her face.

She shot backwards, pain shooting through her body. Whereupon her father proceeded to shove her entirely to the ground and strike her repeatedly; over her face, stomach, and arms, causing bruises to appear almost instantly.

The sounds of the beating broke with the distinct sound of a gun cocking. Lucy looked upwards at her mother, who held a handgun in her shaking grasp.

Mr. Rosenthal shot up on his feet. "You wouldn't dur." He growled, and jumped up to his feet, or attempted to, for he was too tipsy to be on his feet exactly. Nevertheless, he was still fast.

He wrenched his wife's arm backwards, she shrieked, and the gunshot shot through the tiny house, making it shake through the rafters.

That was where Lucy woke up, panting and sweating. It took her a few minutes to remember what happened afterward, and that it was not such a terrible memory, after all.

"Lucy, get out." Helen murmured to her daughter, as Mr. Rosenthal stared at the bullet hole in the back wall.

Lucy took off as fast as her short legs would carry her. She ran out into the street, where a bright set of headlights came up towards her.

The car came to a screeching halt. "Are you all right, there?" a man's voice called out.

Lucy stood, half shaking, half petrified. She watched as the car slowly moved in over to the side of the street. The door of the vehicle opened, and out came a lanky man, in a smart suit, with dark hair and circular spectacles.

The man blinked. "You're Lucy Rosenthal, right?" Lucy nodded confusedly. The man continued, "I'm James Martin, I live across the street. Mrs. Martin is my wife; she's told me that you like to play in our yard sometimes. Is everything all right?"

Lucy, always being an honest child, never would have lied in the first place, however, the question was somewhat moot, considering her face was bloodied and bashed. "Dad's angry." She murmured.

James Martin furrowed a brow, in a fashion that in later years, Lucy would realize his son inherited. He then went on to say in a voice far too even, probably learned from years as a lawyer, "Why?"

"He…" Lucy looked at her feet. "He came home."

"Well, then. We must do something about that, then."

James Martin then offered his hand to the little girl, who tentatively took it, and he led her back down towards her small house. Once there, he straightened his back, and knocked at the door.

Mr. Rosenthal answered the door, swaying where he stood, his head lurched forward, eyelids bright red.

"What d'ya want?" he said.

"Evening." James Martin said evenly. "Your daughter has had quite the scare, it seems. Came running out into the street."

"Stupid little gel," Mr. Rosenthal spat. "Gimme my daughter."

"No, no. That's quite all right. I'm sure you can't tell from the way your world is swaying, but she's rather riled up. No, that won't do. She'll be better off staying somewhere else tonight. My wife will see to it that she has a nice room for the night." 

"Who're ya?" Mr. Rosenthal clung to the doorframe as though it was the only thing keeping him on his feet, which it probably was.

"I'm James Martin. I live across the street."

"The moneybags…"

"Sure. Why not?" James Martin said dryly, looking thoroughly unamused, another look that his son adopted often in his own lifetime. "Well, either way. It'll be in Lucy's best interest if she stays out of the house tonight."

Mr. Rosenthal swayed once more, gagged, and then fell over backwards, unconscious.

"Well, there we go." James Martin said, sending a look to the little girl next to him. He then stepped tentatively over the unconscious drunk. "Helen?" he called. "Are you all right? I heard the gunshot…"

Helen stood up with a handkerchief over her nose, drenched in red. "Oh, hello, James." She said. "It was nothing. I—I…it was me. Stupid, really. I fell down the stairs when I was going to clean the guns."

"And your husband?" James Martin obviously did not buy into it.

"Coincidence," Helen said, all too quickly. "It was an honest mistake."

James Martin still looked as though he didn't believe a word of it. "And your daughter ran out in front of my car, beaten up, because?"

"You found Lucy?" Helen looked around, behind the lawyer, to see her daughter. She held out her hands, and her daughter scurried to her, latching onto her legs.

"I did." James Martin said, and then thinned his lips. "Helen, this is gone on for too long. Look at Lucy's condition. A divorce isn't too drastic an option…"

"No." Helen shook her head. "I could never…"

"He's beating you and your daughter."

"Thank you for getting Lucy back to me, James. But, really, I think it's a bit too late. Give Miriam my regards."

"Helen…"

Helen stepped forward. "I'd show you to the door, but I have to pick my husband up off the floor."

"Do you really want me to cover your or Lucy's murder case?" James Martin frowned.

"Nothing's going to happen!" Helen assured him. "He just had a little too much to drink today."

James Martin let out a sound akin to a growl. "And yesterday. And he damn well will tomorrow. I listen to stories of his kind of living hell daily, and right across the street from me there's the same thing going on."

"Why do you care so much, James?"

"Because, not only are two lives in danger, but every day, Miriam and I try to instill certain values into Edmund. And if my son has to grow up hearing one thing, but then seeing that justice isn't given to those who need to discover it the most, who knows what he will end up believing—or doing. I try to enforce justice, and if a criminal, an addict, or a traitor can get away with anything, everything I've tried to teach my son will be void."

And with that, James Martin pivoted on his heels, returned to his car, and drove it across the street back to his home.

XXXXXXX

Miriam Martin stood out in a crowd. Perhaps it was that she radiated obvious wealth from every pore. Or the way she held herself, or her pretty, powdered face, it was unsure. She wrung her hands, and smiled excitedly. She would finally get to see her son again. It had been a shorter time than she thought it would be, a summer, and an autumn. She hoped that Edmund and Lucy would have winter coats, although if they did not, she could just buy them one at the first clothing store they passed.

She sighed; it would be difficult to explain to Lucy why Helen was not there to pick up her own daughter. How would one tell an eight-year-old that their father came home drunk one night when she was gone and never woke up? That her mother has been working in a diner, on the low side of town for dozens of hours a week? Miriam sighed; it was not her place to tell Lucy anything, but if the girl should ask? What should she tell her then?

The train arrived. Miriam grinned as she saw the crowd of children filling the windows. Their rosy faces pressed against the glass as they waved, trying to sight their parents or grandparents. Miriam glanced at all the windows, but could not see her son in any of them, and her grin faded. Perhaps Edmund simply could not have managed to squeeze towards a window. Although, she would have been thrilled to see him scouting for her, as though he had missed them.

Almost instantly after the train skidded to a halt, children flooded out of the multiple cars. Miriam scouted through every little group of children, but not once did she see Edmund running around, trying to find her. She sighed. Perhaps it was only her husband and herself who missed their son. She hated to think about it, but perhaps Edmund had a better time at the Professor's than in his own home. She knew that Edmund had trouble with the way that his father was always gone. Nevertheless, James did try, Miriam knew, but she was unsure if Edmund did.

After a moment or so of scanning over groups and groups of children, Miriam finally caught sight of her son. He was walking somewhat aimlessly through the crowd, looking about him, and talking with Lucy, who was walking beside him.

Miriam started towards them, waving her arm to catch their attention. She found a smile playing on her lips as she noticed that not only was Edmund talking to their neighbor, but they seemed to be holding hands. On second glance, Miriam noticed that they were grasping onto the other's sleeve. Miriam grinned broader; it was adorable.

The children caught sight of her and started towards her.

"Hullo, children," Miriam said. "Welcome back!"

They smiled brightly at Miriam, and gave their welcomes. "Say, Mum," Edmund asked looking about, "Where's Dad?"

Miriam grimaced. "He's at a trial today. He wanted to come, but there was no way the trail could have changed times…"

Edmund, shockingly, shrugged. "Oh, then," he still seemed upset, but not nearly as much as he used to. It seemed as though Miriam's son was truly growing up.

Because neither child had come back to London with winter coats, Miriam decided to direct the driver towards the shops in town. She dragged Edmund through the apparel of the store, whereupon her son grabbed the first coat off the rack, and called it good, when Miriam tried to make her son look at other options, he still refused to look at more. Miriam sighed, some things never changed. Of course, that was what came with having a ten-year-old son.

Then she went forward and looked through several coats with Lucy. She caught the young girl look towards Edmund a few times, and smile, but she politely looked at three different coats, with interest, and deciding on a soft, lilac one with faux fir trim about the collar and sleeves.

"That's my favorite," Lucy said, "But…I don't think you should buy that for me. It's too expensive, Mum wouldn't be able to pay you back."

"It's fine," Miriam said, taking the coat out of Lucy's hands, lightly, "Absolutely fine. A good winter coat is worth the price. Your mother won't have to pay me back. Consider it a gift."

"I'm not sure…" Lucy looked overly uncomfortable, Miriam saw.

"Dear, it's fine. Absolutely no trouble at all."

"Oh…all right then," Lucy said, shifting her feet.

After they left the apparel store, Miriam took both children to an ice cream shop, as she noticed from across the street that the driver was busy getting his shoes shined. She led them into a nice booth, where she saw both the children file in next to each other. They all ordered ice cream sodas.

As Miriam paid the waitress, an old woman in her mid-forties, she noticed a brief exchange go on between the children.

"What did you get?" Lucy asked Edmund, sipping her soda, and leaning forward.

"Strawberry," Edmund said, between gulps of the soda. "Do you want some?"

Lucy smiled, nodded, and took a small sip from Edmund's straw, and to Miriam's shock, he did not make a face when she returned it, but continued taking exceedingly large gulps of the dessert.

Miriam lifted her brow. "Well, it seems as though you two became good friends while you were gone."

To her surprise, both Edmund and Lucy blushed light pink. "Yeah, Mum, I guess you could say that."

She waited a moment more, but when no elaboration came from the children, Miriam coughed and went on. "So, what was the professor like?"

"Great," Edmund said. "He's a good fellow. He let us four explore however long we wanted and—"

"Four?" Miriam interrupted.

"Yes'm," Edmund drained the last bit of ice cream soda from his cup. "His goddaughter and her hus—I mean, another boy, Peter, lived with us. "

"Well, wasn't that nice!" Miriam put in. "Looks like you had all sorts of fun while you were there."

They nodded. Here, Lucy put in, "And how has Finchley been since we left?"

"Well, we haven't had any more raids. And only a few houses on the other end of the neighborhood fell; but those people are living in some of the quarters of their neighbors."

"Ours?" Edmund furrowed his eyebrows.

Miriam shook her head. "No. I offered, of course, but no one wanted to be so far from their own land."

The neighborhood they lived on was first built some time in the nineteenth century, and had once been a series of mansions, with a vast amount of land, and at least one house for servant or cook's quarters. The Rosenthals lived in one of the old servant's quarters to an old mansion that had burned down at the turn of the century. Two average size houses were then built in the land that once held the mansion. Across the street, there stood one of the largest homes on that street still standing, belonging to the Martin's. It would have been considered smaller in comparison to many of the original homes when the neighborhood was built; however, when the aforementioned fire took down most of the neighborhood it was nearly the only one that remained standing. It, too, had a servant's quarters that, for the Martin's, it served as a guesthouse, that was scarcely used.

When Miriam, Edmund, and Lucy returned to the old neighborhood, both children had to blink once they reached the Martin's house. What had once seemed so big, in comparison to Cair Paravel and even the Professor's house, now seemed average, and across the street, Lucy's house seemed about the size of a water closet.

Within the Martin's house, Miriam set off to the kitchen to prepare for her garden club, which was going to meet that evening. Edmund took Lucy over to the study, under the pretense of listening to the radio.

Miriam clicked her tongue while she made hors d'oeuvres and sandwiches. Things had definitely changed; Edmund seemed quite a bit happier, not to mention he was nicer to Lucy, which made Miriam feel as though she was not a failure as a mother.

Soon there came a knocking at the door. When Miriam answered the door, she saw none other than Stephanie Ford standing there. A long a time ago, Edmund had once broadcasted to the entire tea circle that Stephanie looked like a crawfish. Ever since then, Miriam had noticed a strangely fishy appearance to her.

"Oh, Stephanie, you're early," Miriam muttered. "Well, come in. I'm not ready."

Stephanie let herself in, stepping right into the kitchen as though she owned it. "You weren't here a few minutes ago, Miriam. I was rather shocked; you're usually the earliest bird of the circle. So, of course, I said to myself, Stephanie, I said, I wonder what is wrong with Miriam? And then I realized, James has been working awfully late recently. I wouldn't be terribly shocked if there was something going wrong with her marriage. And since you were gone so early, it made me wonder exactly what—whom, I really mean—you were with. Miriam, darling, you can tell me anything. We are the closest of friends, aren't we?"

Inwardly, Miriam murmured, "I wouldn't tell you anything I don't want broadcasted to everyone in Finchley."

It was a well-known fact that Stephanie Ford was the biggest gossip in Finchley, perhaps even in the whole of England.

Instead of speaking her thoughts, Miriam said, "Oh, of course there's nothing going wrong with James and me! He hasn't worked any harder than he ever has, and we care for each other and love each other as much as ever. Edmund's back. I just picked him up from the train station. That's why I was gone."

"Are you sure?" Stephanie said, peering down her hooked nose. "Well, in that case…Miriam, have you heard about the Smiths…"

The tea circle went on as it usually did. Gossip about all those who weren't present ensued.

"Did you hear about what happened to the Scott's?"

"Oh, yes. It's just their way…"

On and on and on. Miriam silently ate her sandwiches, and served the tea. Occasionally, she did give her thoughts on matters, when she thought that the matters were at least half-true. If she disagreed, the occasional cold remark was valid, but mostly, she kept her mouth shut.

"And, did you hear about Helen Rosenthal across the street?" Stephanie put her teacup down on the saucer. "Her husband only died a month ago, and she is already seeing another man! And it's quite serious, so I hear. She met him at her job! Now, I was asking myself, what sort of man would willingly see a woman, knowing full well that she works? I don't know what sort of man he is, but I do know two things. I heard him calling her Nellie. And Lucy's been out of the house for quite some time. I think that _Nellie's _getting careless."

Miriam all but threw the teapot down. In honesty, she wanted to say, "For one thing, her husband was an abusive alcoholic, so I don't think anyone should blame her for jumping at the first chance of any sort of healthy relationship with a man."

Instead, she said, "Stephanie, pet names don't necessarily equate sharing a bed."

Stephanie cocked her brow. "Didn't James develop special names for you after your wedding night?"

"No." Miriam said dryly. "I don't have any special names. I'm just Miriam. And, anyway, do let's change the topic. Helen's daughter is here, and she could be listening in."

"Oh, I think she's a bit too young to understand," Stephanie said.

"Edmund learned a thing or two from when he used to sneak in to take some sweets." Miriam reasoned.

Another member of the club redirected the conversation, "Say, speaking of Edmund, he hasn't stopped in yet. Usually by this time, he's made several plates of cakes."

"Perhaps he's lost his sweet tooth while he's been gone."

Just as they spoke, there came an abrupt knocking at the door. Miriam excused herself from the garden club, and went to answer the door.

On the other side, stood Helen Rosenthal, tucking a stray lock of hair from her bun behind her ear. "Miriam," she said, "Thank you so much for picking up Lucy. I wanted to be there, you know…"

Miriam let her neighbor in. "Oh, it's no problem. You do have to work, after all." She led her into the sitting room, where the party was located. "We're having tea, Helen, would you like to join us?"

Helen shot a glance to all of the thoroughly unwelcoming faces of her uppity neighbors. "No thank you, Miriam. I haven't seen Lucy in so long… I think I ought to get reacquainted with my daughter."

"All right." Miriam said, placing a hang on Helen's shoulder. "I'll go and get her."

Miriam looked about through the halls, and eventually found the children in the study. Edmund sat on a rug, tuning the radio, and Lucy sat in the windowsill, looking through a book.

"Lucy," Miriam called. "Your mother's here."

Lucy looked up, nodded, as though unsure. And as she stood, she looked over to Edmund, who, to Miriam's shock, stood, and gave the girl a brief embrace.

"Thank you for picking me up, Mrs. Martin," Lucy said politely, and as she turned to go, she waved to Edmund once more.

XXXXXXXX

"Why do you waste your time with your garden club?" Edmund asked that evening once all of the neighbors went home.

Miriam looked towards her son, who seemed to sound much older than he was momentarily, but then continued clicking her knitting needles. "Excuse me?" she asked.

"I just don't see why you spend your time with them. I don't think any of you actually like each other."

"It's…it's complicated." Miriam said. "I don't think that it'd be easy for you to understand."

Edmund groaned. "And you have to talk about Lucy's family?"

"You heard that?" Helen looked up fro her knitting, and then set it down. "Edmund…some people just…haven't had it easy. And, it's no one's fault, but sometimes people who have had an easy life look down their noses at it. Helen's my friend. I don't talk about her."

"But you don't stop it either."

"Edmund…" Miriam began, but then was interrupted.

"You know what, Mum? Never mind. You're right-I can't understand this."

As he walked away, his mother called after him. "Edmund! Edmund!" When he left eyeshot, she went forward, and mumbled under her breath, "He gets more like his father every day."

**A/N: Last chapter, most people guessed correctly that Uncle Jack was supposed to represent C.S Lewis. So, yay to that. Please leave a review on your way out. **


	3. The Rosenthals

**Chapter Three**

**The Rosenthals **

The initial exchange between Helen and her daughter when they first left the Martin house was strange. "Well, Lucy," Helen said. "Anything you want to tell me about your time in the countryside?"

Lucy grinned. "It was nice. The Professor was nice. And well…it was great, actually."

"Did you miss the city at all?"

Pursing her lips in thought, Lucy announced, "Well, not exactly. I did miss you, Mum, but gosh, I was kept so busy that I suppose I just didn't have the time to miss much."

Helen nodded, as they crossed the street she eyed her daughter. "Where did you get that coat, sweetie?" It looked expensive, and new. "Did you get it at the professor's?"

"No." Lucy squirmed a bit in her coat, "Well, Mrs. Martin bought it for me. She said to think of it as a gift. I tried to tell her no, but…"

"It's all right," Helen said, looking sad. "It's all right, dear."

When Lucy first returned to her house, it took some getting used to. The white-stained walls looked plain, aside from the occasional photograph that stood on the wall, and one old sampler from Helen's great-grandmother balanced on a pin on the wall, reading an apparent favorite saying of hers, _We Are What We Believe We Are. _

The house was clean, as Lucy remembered. In the kitchen, the icebox was still streaked and brown, the clothesline still extended into the yard from the kitchen window, on a pulley, over the washtub where Helen did their laundry. The table was the same wobbly-legged, scratched surface, and the chairs were still simple wooden stools.

From the kitchen, Lucy could see her mother's bedroom, still the same old quilts, though they were clean, of course. Helen's wardrobe was small, with shelves on the bottom and in the door, and in it, Lucy knew, held four dresses, as Helen was wearing her fifth. Most of them were only fit for work, and one for the rare Sunday when she was not too tired to dress her daughter up and take her off to church.

"Well, Lu," Helen said, just as Lucy was finishing up looking about the kitchen. "I have the rest of the day, and tomorrow off from work. If you're feeling up to it, I was thinking that maybe we'd go for a walk in town. Maybe if I look through my coat pockets I could get enough change together and we could go out for ice cream. Or, of course, we can just get you settled in and stay at home tomorrow. I've just missed you so much." She hugged her daughter for the first time since Lucy had left. Both of them had forgotten how warm it was. "What do you think?"

Lucy pursed her lips in thought. "Well, maybe we should just see what I feel like tomorrow, rather than decide now. Is that all right with you?"

"Of course, of course."

Lucy then smiled and slowly migrated to the next room in the house. In the sitting room, Lucy could still see the old bullet hole in the far wall, and a whiskey stain on the wallpaper from when her father had gotten angry one evening and thrown it at the wall, having aimed (very wrongly, as she was on the other side of the room entirely) at Helen's head. However, all of the old, moth-eaten, alcohol-stained furniture was gone. In substitution for the old sofa, two, still old, armchairs stood. Lucy remembered them from her attic bedroom, and wondered why her mother had taken the old sofa away.

"Mum," she asked slowly, "why did you change the furniture?"

Helen sighed. "Lucy, you might want to sit down for a moment."

There was no easy way for Helen to tell her daughter this. She tried to put it as delicately as she could, not knowing what Lucy's reaction would be. Refusing to give Lucy any specifics, Helen simply told her daughter that her father was no longer there, that he went to sleep one night and did not wake up.

Lucy sat there, her brow furrowed. Honestly, she had not the slightest idea of how to react. On the first hand, the man was half the reason she was alive at all, and you were supposed to honor your parents. However, on the other hand, he was a raving drunk, all of her memories of the man involved him stumbling through the house and either hurting her mother or herself. The child's innocence inside of her eight-year-old being told her one thing, but the experience from her life made her want to just tell the man good riddance. It was then that she realized something. She hated him. She hated her father—a dead man.

Was it wrong? She wondered. Would Aslan be angry? Or would he understand why she hated her own father?

"Mum?" Lucy asked quietly, "Can I go upstairs to my room now?"

Helen nodded, "Yes, of course, dear. I'll get supper started."

Lucy stood up and walked quickly to what appeared to be a closet, behind the door, held a long, spindly staircase. Lucy started upwards on the stairs; they creaked and seemed to give way under her feet. She walked a bit faster.

Helen had decided to move her daughter up to the attic almost immediately after the incident with the gun, where Lucy had first met James Martin. The attic door locked from the inside; the only way into the attic from the outside, if it was locked was the skeleton key. Helen found it safer that way; even if her husband managed to climb the stairs in a drunken stupor, he would not be able to open the door. And, if there ever came a time when Lucy accidentally would lock herself in the attic, Helen put a cow bell in the laundry shoot, all Lucy had to do was pull the string and Helen would be aware that her daughter couldn't get out, and she would retrieve the skeleton key from under the floorboards.

Lucy reached the heavy door to her bedroom and pushed it open, not without effort, and she stepped into her old bedroom. Directly on the opposite side of the room, under a picture window, was a small bed on brass frames. It had a colorful patchwork quilt covering it, with a dingy white pillow on its head. Underneath it, there was an old electric torch, and a heavy copy of _King Arthur_. Often times, she would have stayed up under a tent of blankets, and read for hours into the late night.

Everything was dusty. The wooden floor was also thick with dust. There wasn't a single article of clothing in the wide-open wardrobe, as she had packed the six dresses she owned herself. The bed had a cold look. One cobweb expanded across the window, shimmering against the gray winter's sky.

She plopped her carpetbag on the floor and sat down on her bed, a cloud of dust gathered around her hips. She took her hand and wiped off the gray from a red patch on the quilt, revealing a sudden burst of color, bright and deep as a ruby she had once worn on a necklace in Narnia.

XXXXXXXX

The events immediately after Lucy returned home seemed to pass as though she was looking at it through glass. It happened, everything went by in a matter that seemed rather ordinary, and yet, she found herself shockingly unattached. Perhaps it was that the last fifteen years of her life spent in the extraordinary. Albeit, it was a strange thought coming from an eight year old, but there it was.

Helen worked rather frequently, and while her mother was out, Lucy helped out by cleaning in the ways she could; doing laundry, sweeping, dusting, and washing the dishes. Sometimes, while she was in the yard, she would see Edmund through a window in his house, but, for whatever reason, she did not go over to see him, and he did not cross the road to see her.

Lucy was stuck. Her mind did not agree with itself. If she focused on Narnia once more, she still thought like an adult, but otherwise, her thoughts were reduced to the simplicity of a child. It was painful to know that she was capable of maturity and thoughts and feelings of a grown woman, but the fact that she actually had to focus at it was what was so hard for her to swallow.

Over dinner one night, after Lucy had been home for a few weeks, she noticed that her mother seemed lost in thought. "Is something wrong, Mum?" the eight-year-old asked.

"What?" Helen lurched, seeming suddenly awake. "Oh, I'm sorry, Lucy. I was just thinking. Nothing for you to worry about. I was just thinking about your birthday and how I'm going to aff—I mean, what you're going to look like in your new school uniform come fall." She smiled.

Lucy noticed, with a sudden shocking realization, that Helen had used this smile on her daughter quite often. She had just never noticed before what a fake, tired smile it was. The sort of smile meant to give a child the impression that things were all right when they were not.

To change the subject, Helen asked, "How has it been here while I'm gone during the day?"

"It's all right," Lucy said honestly. "I keep myself busy; it gets quiet though."

Knowingly, Helen nodded. "My manager's dog just had puppies. They can't keep them, and are planning to get rid of them as soon as possible. Do you think you might like to have a puppy to keep you busy over holiday?"

The part in Lucy that was still eight-years-old brightened. Instantly, that part took over, and simply gushed. "Oh, yes!"

Helen laughed, genuinely this time. "If we do get a puppy, that means that you'll be responsible when I'm not home. Feeding it, grooming it, walking it, and picking up after it. Do you think you really want to take on the responsibility?"

"Of course! Thank you, Mum. Thank you!"

"You can come to the restaurant with me at the end of the week and pick out the puppy you want. The whole litter is in the manager's office." Helen waited for her daughter's enthusiastic nod, when something suddenly occurred to her. "Oh! And while you're there, do you think you'd like to meet Frank?"

"Frank?" Lucy echoed, letting her soup fall from her spoon.

Helen nodded. "He's a good…friend of mine."

"Frank and Helen?" Lucy's voice cracked.

"Yes…" Helen said. "Are you all right? You look a bit pale."

"Oh," Lucy shrugged. "I suppose it's just…déjà vu."

For the rest of the week, in her spare time while Helen was away at work, Lucy had found an old plank of wood. By tying a frayed rope to it on both ends, and then to a tree, she was able to make a tipping swing of sorts. She sat with her copy of _King Arthur _in her lap, barely balancing on the swing, lost within Camelot. It was a rather strange kingdom, though she found it a bit two-dimensional and unrealistic in comparison to her memories in Narnia, but it was the best she could get, other than simply torturing herself by forcing herself to remember every single minute of her life.

As her eyes scanned over the last words of the chapter, Lucy kept her chin tucked down to the words, when a wonderfully familiar suddenly called behind her.

"Need a push, Lu?"

Lucy swiveled over to see Edmund standing behind her, with his hands in his pockets. It reminded Lucy of the day he had come to see her after Aslan rescued him from the White Witch's camp. She grinned far more broadly than she had in weeks. "Edmund! Hi!"

Edmund smiled. "Need a push?"

Lucy nodded numbly, and murmured. "Yeah."

He brought the swing backward, and Lucy held on to the rope so tightly she thought that a rope-burn would be emanate. He let go of the swing, and she went flying forward, and then back to him. Always back to him.

He gave her a push every couple of times, and she used her arms and legs to gain height on the swing. When finally she reached so high that she could see the rooftop of the Martin house across the street. Lucy finally just leaned backwards, still holding on to the rope with everything she had. The breeze on her face felt nice, and as she shut her eyes, she felt the flying sensation of going forward. Then, she almost let out a high scream as the falling started. It felt like a free-fall. As though she was on a great precipice, and fell backwards from it. But, just when she felt as though she was about to hit the ground, Edmund's hands gave her a little push, and she went flying again.

Once Edmund's arms grew tired of pushing Lucy about on the swing, the two children retired from their game. Lucy offered to let Edmund sit on the swing, but he declined, and found a soft patch on the grass. After weighing the options of either sitting on the swing or joining Edmund, she chose to accompany her husband on the grass.

"Do you find it odd at all?" Lucy queried, after a moment spend staring at a little mouse dash about in the grass. "Your life?"

Edmund nodded. "I can't explain it, but something feels…wrong. You know? I suppose I just got used to not being alone." He took handfuls of grass out of the earth and began shredding them in his grip.

Lucy put a hand on Edmund's arm. "You can always stop by. I'm usually here. I take over the chores I can while Mum works. But we could always just sit and play cards or a board game or something."

Edmund smirked good-naturedly. "I think we haven't gone back to being kids completely again. A game of poker actually sounds like fun."

Lucy laughed at that, and then Edmund joined in. After they had had their fun, however, a moment of silence followed. Edmund continued the senseless murder of grass, and Lucy watched the mouse try to find some sort of food in her lawn.

Finally, Lucy said, "Mum wants me to meet her new boyfriend tomorrow."

Edmund's head swiveled over to Lucy. "Are you going to do it?"

"Of course," Lucy shrugged. "I'm not that nervous, I don't think. Just…apprehensive. I don't know what's going to happen. Oh, I don't know what's upsetting me about this." She tucked her knees in towards her chest. "I guess, I might be worried that he won't like me. Or, maybe, that he might not be a very nice person."

"Nobody can't like you, Lu." Edmund smiled fondly. "And as far as the nice person bit goes, wait to meet him before you let your imagination run wild. Is something else wrong, Lu? You usually aren't so…depressed. You're usually the one telling me to cheer up."

Lucy sighed. "I'm tired. I haven't slept well lately. I keep on having dreams about Narnia, and then when I wake up, I'm so sad because I'm not there anymore. I just don't want to sleep anymore."

Edmund frowned. "Take some time to adjust, Lu. Both of us need it. We just need some time to get used to this."

XXXX

The next morning, long before the sun rose, Helen led Lucy by the hand into a small little diner. It was made of red brick that desperately needed cleaning; the paint on the doors was peeling, and the window on the top half was smudged with fingerprints. Helen placed a little key in the door, and it swung open with surprising ease.

"I have to clean up for the morning," Helen said. "You can go and sit in that booth over there towards the kitchen. Are you sure you want to wait all day?"

Lucy nodded. She had asked if she could go to work with Helen that day, for being alone all day, every day, was starting to get to the eight year old. She didn't tell her mother of that, for she knew how hard it was for Helen, working all day, and then trying to give love and compassion to her daughter, as well as keep the house up. In all honesty, Lucy thought that Helen Rosenthal was the hardest-working woman she had ever seen—both in England, and in Narnia.

When Helen raised her brow, as though she didn't quite believe her daughter, Lucy showed her mother a burlap bag she had taken from the house with her. She reached in, and revealed her copy of _King Arthur,_ a sketchpad and pencil, and some string for cat's cradle.

"If you're sure, then." Helen said, then she kissed her daughter's part on the top of her head, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Lucy shuffled into the booth designated from her mother, and then took a look around the diner. Other than a few things that needed cleaning (which was why Helen was there so early in the first place), it wasn't a bad looking establishment. The walls were still brick inside the building, but it was much cleaner without the grime of London streets inside. The floor was nice-looking and durable; the booths had comfortable enough seating (although they tended to have holes in them), and the tables were a bit scratched, but other than that, it was a rather nice place, Lucy thought. She brought open her copy of _King Arthur _and started to read, once more. However, before she knew what was happening, she rested her head against the back of the booth, and she fell soundly asleep.

By the time she awoke, the diner was fairly busy for breakfast, any number of people came in and settled into booths, working men mostly. Some were rowdy, with rather crude remarks ready for their waitress, but others were polite and courteous. Many of them looked like factory workers, custodians, or anything of the like. The common breakfast, it seemed, was any kind of eggs and toast with either tea or coffee. After a few minutes, when Lucy got bored of looking around, she opened her book once more, and continued. For some reason, she never got tired of the chapter where little Arthur stepped forward, and pulled the mighty Excalibur out of the stone. He had gone from little Wart, somebody that little to no one ever cared about, to considering his own worth as nothing, to king—all because of what truly laid inside his heart. It reminded her, somewhat, of Edmund. Perhaps, that might have doubled the reason, she could never finish reading the book—she would repeat certain scenes over and over, relating them, somewhat, to her own adventures.

Helen came, then, and plopped a plate of two eggs and toast in front of her daughter, just to the right of the drawing Lucy was working on. "I'll be right back with some water," she muttered, and then got back to work.

Lucy looked up and watched her mother walk about. It was understandable how tired Helen was by the end of the day, rushing to take orders, stopping at maybe three tables at once. Some people would call out requests for coffee or tea, some people wanted their eggs taken back, under claims they ordered sunny-side up, not over easy, or other sort of problems like that.

"What book is that?" a girl's voice called out from the booth behind Lucy.

Lucy looked up, and saw a pale girl, with light blond hair and airy eyes staring at her.

"Erm, _King Arthur._" Lucy said. "It's really good."

The girl stood up from the booth, where she apparently sat alone, and walked over to Lucy. She wore a blue dress.

"May I…see it?" she asked.

Lucy nodded, and handed her the book.

The girl put her thumb on the page Lucy had been on, but otherwise flipped through the pages. As she flipped, her eyes grew darker. "Hmm…" she said, thoughtfully. "There's no pictures."

"No." Lucy agreed. "I like it better that way."

"How do you know how things look like, then?" the girl asked, with a very practical look on her face.

Lucy shrugged. "I like to use my imagination."

The blond girl nodded, and seemed to contemplate this suggestion very seriously before she stuck out her hand and said, "I'm Alice, by the way. Alice Little."

"Lucy Rosenthal," Lucy said, taking back her book with no pictures. "Pleased to meet you."

Alice beamed. "I don't get to meet very many people from this side of town, you know. Mother doesn't like it when I come here to visit Mr. Dodgeson. She doesn't like him very much, though. I'm not sure why. Though, I always get upset when she says that I can't. She always tells me to control my temper. It's hard to control my temper when I'm angry."

"But, you ought to still try…" Lucy began, before a tall, sturdy man came out of the restroom.

He walked towards them in long strides. "Alice," he said. "I thought I told you to wait at the booth?"

"You did," Alice said simply. "But I made a new friend. Mr. Dodgeson, this is my new friend, Lucy…"

Suddenly, Helen showed up, as if out of thin air. "Mr. Dodgeson," she said, her tone sharp, "Where is Alice's sister?"

Mr. Dodgeson raised his brow as if confused. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Mrs. Little has asked me not to serve you if you show up with either Alice or her sister. It might cost me my job, Mr. Dodgeson, but I've allowed enough things to get hurt." Helen seemed adamant.

"You insult me." Mr. Dodgeson said under his breath. "You all treat me as though I were some sick old man. I tutored Miss Little, I shall have you know. People act as though adults and children cannot be friends."

"Not when Alice's mother doesn't want her to be friends with adults." Helen said. "Please, may I show you do the door?"

Mr. Dodgeson scowled and made his way to the door. Alice looked livid.

"Why did you do that?" She asked. "Mr. Dodgeson has never done anything wrong. He's my friend."

Helen grimaced. "Even though he hasn't, your mother requested this, and I feel like I've let enough bad things happen because I didn't do anything," she seemed to be looking more at Lucy here, "I don't want to take chances. Here, Alice, you can sit with Lucy. I'll take you home at the end of the day. You two will be attending the same school in the fall, why don't you get to know each other?"

Lucy pursed her lips. She knew that it was possible for an adult and a child to be friends. Why, she remembered dear old Tumnus! She still missed the faun whenever she allowed herself to think about him. Even in England, she thought Uncle Jack was just about one of the finest friends anyone could have. However, something about Mr. Dodgeson seemed to be different, although Alice did not seem to believe so.

Regardless of Alice's initial upset mood, the two girls seemed to like each other straightaway. Together, the made talk about fun, fantastic things. Lucy was surprised by Alice's interest in talking animals, although she did have some funny ideas about them.

"Waistcoats?" Lucy said, choking on her water from lunch. "You think that talking animals should wear _waistcoats_?"

Alice nodded. "Why shouldn't they? If they can talk, and feel, and everything, as you've been saying they would, don't you think they might feel naked without them?"

"Not especially." Lucy shook her head. "They wouldn't be human, but….they're people. You know? They would…that is," Lucy covered for herself, "I think they should, have their own ways of life. Like, a talking beaver would still live in a dam, but they wouldn't wear full out clothes. They'd use a sewing machine, but I don't think that they'd wear outfits. Live by their own rules, you know? A different culture almost!"

Alice stared at Lucy. After a moment, she said, "You have really thought this through, haven't you?"

XXXXXXXXX

Towards suppertime, Helen came back to the booth where the two girls were chattering, with two trays of dinner food on her hands. "Excuse me," She said, smiling at how the girls seemed like long-lost friends from the way they were talking. "Can I borrow my daughter for a bit? Lucy, I want you to meet someone…"

Helen led her daughter to a booth on the far side of the room, where a friendly looking man sat. He was stocky, with a rather square head, but his eyes were bright.

"Lucy," Helen said, "This is Frank. Frank, this is Lucy."

Lucy smiled and settled into the seat across from him, next to her mother. "Nice to meet you."

"Nellie's told me a lot about you, Lucy." Frank smiled. "You seem older than she told me you were."

Lucy shrugged. "I'll be nine in the spring."

Frank seemed nice, Lucy thought, but he seemed uncomfortable around her. Children, she thought, he wasn't used to them, and didn't know how to act. It was almost as if he was afraid of her.

"How long do you have off for supper today?" Helen asked Frank, handing him a plate off the tray, and then handing another one to Lucy.

Frank shrugged. "Whenever. I don't really have to work tonight, but I'll be able to get next weekend off if I do."

Helen smiled. "And what were you thinking for next weekend?"

"Well, Nellie," Frank said. "Whatever you'd like. If you can get it off, I suppose we could see."

Lucy speared her dinner with a fork, and took a few bites, before asking politely. "What is your job?"

"I drive a cab," Frank said, taking a drink of water. "It pays rather well, sometimes. Long hours, though."

Lucy couldn't help but stare. "You're…you're a cabby?"

Helen coughed. "Lucy, there's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh, it's not that at all!" Lucy said, and then turned to mumbling. "It's only…heh, déjà vu."

XXXXXX

By the time Lucy reached home that night, after taking a detour to another neighborhood somewhat nearby to take Alice home, she had a small brown and white spaniel puppy tucked underneath her arms. He yipped and tried to pry loose from her arms. She let him go once they reached the house, and he ran about in circles, until he grew bored, sat down, and perked his ears up at Lucy expectantly.

Helen laughed. "What are you going to name him?"

Lucy thought. "Little Jacky," she ultimately decided.

Nodding, Helen said, "I think that suits him just fine, dear. Your Uncle Jack may find it amusing, though."

"Well, that's why." Lucy insisted. "He's got the same quizzical look Uncle Jack has.d"

Laughing, Helen shook her head. "All right, if you insist. I think you need to get some cleaning supplies out of the closet."

Lucy pursed her lips, and then looked over towards Little Jacky, who had his leg up, and was peeing on one of the armchairs.

Nodding, Lucy quickly swatted at Little Jacky for peeing inside the house, and then set up to clean his mess.

Later that night while Lucy sat under her quilts, with Little Jacky lying on the foot of her bed, chewing on the bedposts, she reached up and scratched her puppy behind the ears.

He panted happily, and let his little tail wag.

Lucy sighed, turning her light off. "Tomorrow, I think, I'll try and introduce to you Edmund. I think you'll like him."

Little Jacky barked and wagged his tail.

"You think so, too?" She laughed, and settled underneath the quilts, "Good night, Little Jacky. Good night."

**A/N:** **There you have it, then. Please review on your way out. **


	4. Reunited

**Chapter Four**

**Reunited **

It was a little passed midnight; Miriam Martin was mindlessly flipping through a catalog. There wasn't anything in particular that she wanted to buy, although that mink stole looked pretty, she just could not manage to get to sleep the night. Nothing was pressing on her mind, but a chest cold was beginning to bother her sleeping schedule.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open, Miriam looked upwards to see James walking into the room, his suit jacket swung over his shoulder. His tired eyes focused on the ground.

He jumped a bit when he saw Miriam on the wicker chair next to the wall. "Miriam," he said. "You're up late. Your cold still bothering you?"

Miriam nodded. "Enough to keep me awake. You're home awfully late, though."

James dropped his jacket off on the bed, and slid his glasses up on his nose. "Paperwork keeps me later than cases do, you know that. I was just reviewing the last few cases and time got away from me." He walked towards Miriam and kissed her on the neck. "_Ce n'est pas grave." _

"You always tell me not to worry," Miriam said, amused. "I still don't know what I should be worried about."

As James went on to unbutton his vest, Miriam began to speak about her day. James simply grunted again and began to change into his pajamas.

"Edmund spent the day at the Rosenthals again today," Miriam said, letting a grin escape from her lips, in remembering when she went to pick him up before supper.

She had crossed the street while dinner was in the oven, and approached the door. Inside the building, Miriam could hear the children evidentially giving orders to Lucy's new puppy.

"Roll over, Jacky!"

"Come on, you can do it."

"Jacky! Roll over!"

Miriam knocked on the door, and the voices stopped. Lucy came quickly to the door. "Hullo, Mrs. Martin!" she said happily.

"Hello," Miriam smiled at the girl. "I'm here to pick up Edmund for dinner."

Lucy nodded. "I'll go get him, come on in."

Before Lucy moved behind the door of the sitting room, Miriam called out, "Is your mother home yet?" When Lucy shook her head, Miriam offered, "Would you like to come with us for dinner?"

Lucy thought it over, but then ultimately shook her head. "My mum left me a casserole, and I ought to eat it."

Miriam nodded, and during the short time the children were away, she heard voices in the other room.

"Your mum is here," Lucy's voice came.

"Oh." Edmund seemed a bit upset at this, and the puppy barked.

"Can you…will you stop by again tomorrow?" Lucy sounded nervous.

Miriam assumed that Edmund nodded, because Lucy responded, "I can't wait. Well…then, I suppose, I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll see you," Edmund said. And then he hesitated. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Miriam had found it somewhat amusing, but when she retold the story to James as he dressed, he furrowed his brows.

"Aren't they a bit young to say things like that?" James asked, climbing into bed.

Miriam waved his concern off. "Oh, it's not anything serious. Let them be kids. They're bound to grow out of it."

However, as time progressed, they did not grow out of it, as Miriam had predicted. On the contrary, they remained as close as ever. The children developed a favorite radio program and would weekly sit in the Martin's house, playing basic card games or board games while listening to the tales of their show. However, most hours were spent in Lucy's back yard or house, training Little Jacky.

Because little dogs grow faster than children, Little Jacky was the main clue as to how much time passed. Although he was still little, and still not thoroughly house broken, he grew quickly, with energy to rival a child on Christmas Eve.

Soon, too soon for Edmund's liking precisely, his mother dragged him off to a special store to get his fitting for his school uniform that year; for another mediocre year at Hendon House. Edmund remembered that he found it dreadfully dull, even before Narnia. He shuddered to think about what it would be like that year.

It even happened too quickly, when it was time to pack up his bags for the school year to begin. James drove with his wife and son to the train station, and helped Edmund get his heavy trunk out of the back seat. Miriam's eyes were slightly glistening.

As she hugged her son to say good-bye, she seemed to murmur something about always dropping him off at train stations. Then, in a louder voice, she said, "We'll see you at Christmas, then, dear."

James did similarly, only saving his son the embarrassment of a hug. Instead, he gave Edmund a hearty clap on the shoulder, saying, "Have fun in school. Though, I want you to behave better this year."

Edmund cringed slightly, remembering that his parents had to travel all the way to the school to save him from expulsion. He did, however, assume that a few pounds had exchanged palms during that whole ordeal. His only defense had been that it was his roommate Stephen's, idea.

"We'll miss you, Ed." James said, "And, like your mother said, we'll see you at Christmas."

"Don't forget to write," Miriam said, again, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. "I want to hear all about your school year…"

Edmund nodded, when the train's whistle blew, long and loud. "Yeah, Mum. Of course." He said. Then, "Sorry. I'd better get going."

His parents hugged him good-bye again, Miriam kissed his forehead, and Edmund ran to catch his train, stopping of course, to wait for a little girl waving over to a man he did not know. Edmund thought he looked a bit like a sausage.

"Is that Frank?" Edmund asked, waiting for Lucy to pick up her own trunk.

Lucy nodded, "Mum had to work, so he took me. He's nice, Ed."

Edmund grunted in reply.

"Erm, Edmund?" Lucy sad, pointing to her own forehead. "You've got some lipstick on your forehead." She proceeded to take a handkerchief out of her school uniform. "Here, I think you might need this."

Edmund nodded, said his thanks, and wiped his mother's makeup off his forehead, turning as red as the lipstick. Together, they boarded the train, and shuffled into an empty compartment.

"Are you excited, Lucy?" he asked, noting that this would be Lucy's first year at the girl's boarding school across the street, St. Finbar's.

Nervously, Lucy nodded. "A bit nervous, but yes."

A wave of pity washed over Edmund. Although he was thankful that Lucy would be attending the school nearby, so they could still see each other, he knew that it might be difficult considering Lucy would probably be the poorest girl at St. Finbar's. It was a rather strict Catholic school, and more expensive than Hendon House. Lucy had told him that she was always to attend St. Finbar's, considering almost all of her late grandmother's inheritance went into Lucy's tuition. Possibly her grandmother's attempt to keep Lucy in the influence of things pure and godly after the old woman had all but disowned Helen when she had come home pregnant at seventeen.

Presently, a voice sounded off behind them. "Lucy? Edmund?"

Lucy spun around, grinning broadly. "Peter!" she cried, recognizing the voice.

Surely enough, Peter Kingsley stood in the doorway of the compartment, bearing a nearly identical uniform to Edmund.

"You're going to the House, too?" Edmund asked.

Peter nodded. "Hang on a second, let me go and get Susan, she's waiting for me in another compartment."

"Is she going to St. Finbar's?" Lucy asked, perking up.

"She convinced her uncle to let her transfer this year." Peter said, before disappearing into the hallway.

The train lurched forward, and they took off, leaving the station. Edmund and Lucy stood up on the seats, waving out the window. They caught sight of Miriam and James, in the back of the station, waving back. Frank, on the other hand, had probably already left, for he was nowhere in sight.

By the time the train began its way through the city, Peter had returned to the compartment, with Susan in tow. Lucy jumped up at the sight of Susan, and after the two girls had hugged and reunited in the way that girls will, all four children sat down on the seats across from each other, and began to chatter together.

"I suppose this means you two managed to stay in contact?" Edmund asked, remembering one of the couple's fears from after they had come back from Narnia.

Peter and Susan nodded simultaneously. "Though letters and such," Susan explained.

"She even convinced the Professor to let her come and stay with me and my family on holiday for a bit," Peter said, and the two looked at each other. Peter slowly moved his head towards Susan, and in one swift motion, kissed her.

Edmund and Lucy exchanged glances, the former still finding the ideas of physical affection a bit disgusting, and the latter unable to imagine doing anything like that herself.

"So, I suppose you two had better luck?" Peter said, changing the subject.

Edmund nodded. "We've been seeing each other every day, almost. Training Lucy's new dog, mostly."

"If I may ask," Susan finally asked, tentatively. "How's your memory? Of Narnia, I mean. Do either of you have trouble remembering certain things?"

Lucy exchanged glances with her husband, and shook her head. "Not really."

"No," Edmund said, and then paused. "Have you?"

Susan blushed. "A little. It hasn't been anything really significant. But, I've begun to have a hard time…remembering what actually happened, and what's just a dream. I do dream about Narnia, and then when I wake up I can't remember if it's memory or a fabrication. I think it's because both, my memories and those dreams, are so irrational and impossible, that logically, I get confused."

Peter frowned at his wife; she had told him all this before, but something about it sent chills up and down the former High King's spine. He still did not fully realize that that was, in fact, the beginning of the end of Susan the Gentle.

XXXXXXX

Lucy stumbled through the beginning orientation at St. Finbar's. She looked through the enormous crowd of red-clad first years, but could not find the one she knew for the life of her; Alice Little somehow continued to elude her line of vision as they all learned the rules and regulations of their school. All of them seemed quite a bit like a list of don'ts. Don't miss Mass for a lesser reason then pneumonia, don't miss class, don't leave campus except for on the weekends (and for first years, they must be accompanied by an older student). Don't venture across the street to the boy's school, don't keep quiet if anyone is seen disobeying the rules, don't stay out passed nine; and on and on and on.

Eventually, Lucy stumbled into her dormitory, on the bottom level. Her roommate was already inside; a taller girl with a mousy appearance and a shy face.

"Hullo, there." Lucy said. "I'm Lucy Rosenthal."

"I'm Marjorie Preston," the girl said in a small voice, with a heavy Welsh accent.

The rest of the evening was spent with the two girls introducing themselves to each other. Marjorie was from Wales but lived with her aunt and uncle in London; she seemed surprised to Lucy's life, but too polite to say anything about it. Lucy had been warned that people might treat her differently because of her lack of money, but Lucy hadn't been worried, insisting that she wouldn't even want to be friends with those who would be snobbish about it. However, she was thankful that her roommate did not seem to mind.

XXXXXXX

Edmund arrived at his dorm, room 2D, just when his shoulder was getting sore from dragging his chest up two flights of stairs. He pushed the door open, to see Stephen jumping on his bed, as though he were attempting to fly.

"What are you doing, Dawkins?" Edmund asked, shoving his chest into the room.

Stephen grinned at his roommate impishly. "You can see at some at some of the dormitory windows 'cross the road."

Edmund rolled his eyes, and Stephen continued, sliding by Edmund to shut the door.

"That's right, you're only twelve, aren't you? Haven't started to fancy girls yet." Stephen reminded him, yet again, of the fact that he was two years older, as though that was a compliment; considering they were in the same year of school.

"I just don't see the sense in jumping on beds to try and peep into window." Edmund insisted, shoving his trunk under the bed, and eyeing Stephen again for the first time since the last time he was in school.

Stephen was a snub-nosed little boy. Although he was short for his age, and rather bow-legged, he had an air and manners of someone fully grown. However, some found it difficult to see passed his sharp, ugly little eyes. His family, though he rarely spoke of, or to them, had struck gold somewhere, and only had money for the second half of Stephen's life; enough time to feed some unconventional hobbies.

Altogether, Stephen Dawkins, was a rowdy, boisterous, swaggering, boy, standing four foot six at his full height, if even. Edmund could have always taken him in a fight, but somehow, Stephen had a knack for staying out of the trouble he caused, and so Edmund found it best to be with him, rather than against him. A philosophy that would follow him throughout secondary school, Edmund guessed. Besides, if you were on Stephen's good side, it would pay off in the end, for he really could be a good chap.

"How were your holidays?" Edmund asked.

Stephen fell down on the bed, flat on his stomach. "They went all right. Ain't nothing special really happened. Heard you got booted to the countryside during the raids."

"It wasn't so bad." Edmund said. "I made some good friends, and had a good time."

Stephen waited for Edmund to elaborate, and when he did not, Stephen took out a few coins, the exact amount Edmund remembered shoving into his pockets that morning.

When he checked, and found nothing but some lint in his pocket, Stephen grinned again. "Once a villain, always a villain, I say. You still want to learn?"

Edmund shook his head as his roommate returned him his money. "No, thanks. I've changed a bit since last year."

"I'll say," Stephen chuckled, walking to the window. "You still haven't checked your other pocket."

Edmund did so, and finding nothing, he began to speak, but then remembered that he didn't put anything in his pocket to begin with.

"Novice." Stephen accused, holding up Edmund's coins, yet again, in his possession.

XXXXXXX

The school year passed in this way, during the week, and after classes, Lucy spent almost all of her time in the company of Marjorie Preston and Alice Little. The trio soon became inseparable; with Lucy and Alice's vivid imagination, and Marjorie's tentative contributions to the wild and fantastic conversations. Alice seemed to find Marjorie a tinge annoying, however, mostly in the latter's interest in a snobbish upperclassman by the name of Anne Featherstone. However, they continued to be the closest of friends. Because the part of London where Marjorie lived wasn't so far away from Finchley, the girls arranged to remain good mates and spend some time together during their summer holidays.

On the weekends, during the school year, Lucy would leave her usual friends, and leave campus, accompanied by Susan, where the two girls would meet up with Edmund and Peter. The four would then spend full Saturdays together, and Sunday afternoons, after the girls were admitted out of Mass and confession.

Edmund, during the week, had figured out the delicate balance of not taking part of Stephen's harmless, but rule-breaking antics, and remaining friendly with his roommate. And it certainly came in handy, when mulish bullies decided to gang up on the "spoiled" lawyer's son. Stephen was someone that no one wanted to mess with.

Peter, on the other hand, wasn't having such luck adjusting to school. The fact that his peers didn't bow at his presence anymore seemed to bother him, and that added to the fact that other boys would victimize him for whatever reason. However, Peter's haughty reactions did not seem to help his case at all.

Susan made friends, although she did not have any specific friends she stuck to, being a bit more of a social butterfly, transitioning from group to group. She took to wearing makeup occasionally, although it was not permitted during classes, so it was more of a recreational activity.

Regardless to how the school year panned out for each child, the end of it came as a relief to all. Finally, after months and months of homework and long lectures, long nights and days of fun and adventure waited them; and this year, they swore a pact that they would all stay in touch that summer.

XXXXXXXX

Susan stood at the magazine stand, waiting patiently for the train to arrive, so that she could be taken away, yet again, for a summer at her godfather's. She would miss Peter during the summer months, though she did have letters to look forward to. It was inevitable, and she had to make do with what she had. She picked a newspaper off the stand, and began skimming it. As she got interested in an article, she heard someone come up from behind her, and put some sort of heavy item down. Out of her peripheral vision, Susan could see it was a suitcase.

"You go to St. Finbar's," a hesitant voice said.

Susan looked up to see a skinny boy with glasses looking at her, all but hyperventilating.

"That's right," Susan said, disinterested, looking back down at her paper.

After a moment, the boy said, "I go to Hendon House. I've seen you. Sitting by yourself."

"Yes, well, I prefer to be left alone." Susan turned away from the boy more, hoping he would get the hint. He didn't.

"Me, too." He insisted, and then after a moment, he said, "What's your name?"

Not wanting this boy asking about her to anyone else, and just wanting him out of the way, Susan looked up and said in a voice she was sure was convincing, "Phyllis."

Even if it was convincing, her cover was blown almost instantly, for Lucy came running up the street, calling out, "Susan!"

When the girl approached ran up to her, panting slightly, she called, "You'd better come quickly. He's fighting again."

"Not again." Susan growled under her breath, put the magazine down at the stand, and ran across the street, with Lucy at her heels.

The younger girl led Susan into the train station, where the roar of chanting students filled her ears. It was a whole mob; they had to shove their way to see what was going on.

After shoving her way to see what was going on, Susan grimaced. Peter was swinging his fists at a boy, perhaps double his size, with two others shoving him against the wall, and pulling him. At one point, Peter was pushed forward and he made eye contact with Susan, who simply frowned and shook her head at her husband. She couldn't imagine what would compel him to fight. Again. After she had asked him not to, at least twice.

There was a tug in the crowd, and Susan turned her head to see Lucy throw out her arms to grab the one of the boy shoving his way through the crowd. "Edmund!" she cried.

Edmund paid no heed and launched himself onto one of Peter's opponents. The fight ensued; still three or four against two. No one else tried to join, but simply cheered on the violence.

After a minute or two, whistles blew in the distance, and a few red-faced officers came running to the scene breaking up the fight. Susan backed up, and turned away at just the moment one of the officers grabbed Peter by the shoulders and shouted, "Act your age!"

Susan and Lucy waited the boys on a bench; Susan, crossly, and Lucy, sadly. Peter came first and grimaced at his wife, sitting next to her.

When Edmund came bumbling along, he sat down his suitcase, took a seat beside Lucy, and mumbled a sarcastic, "You're welcome," to Peter.

"I had it sorted." Peter insisted, standing up from the bench.

Susan shook her head crossly. "What was it this time?" she insisted.

Peter looked down at the ground, and then back to Susan. "He bumped me."

Lucy, who had previously been attempting to comfort Edmund by rubbing his forearm, looked towards Peter and said incredulously, "So you _hit him_?"

"No," Peter said, and then finished, trying to justify himself. "After he bumped me, he tried to make me apologize."

Susan sighed. "Really, is it that hard just to walk away?"

"I shouldn't have to!" Peter insisted. "Don't any of you get tired of being treated like a kid?"

"We are kids." Edmund insisted.

"I wasn't always," Peter shook his head. "How long does he expect us to wait?"

Susan opened her mouth to speak, when Lucy shot up from her seat, "Ow! Something pinched me." She explained.

"I didn't touch her!" Edmund insisted when the older two shot their eyes at him.

Suddenly, the others began to feel it too; something tugging at their clothes and hair.

"It feels like magic!" Lucy cried.

As the four grasped hands, the train station began to strip away, bricks seemed to dissolve, and a great wind caught up all of their clothes. The room seemed to transition, until they were still left in shade, but a great natural light appeared before them.

As the foursome moved towards the light, gradually, they began to realize that they were standing in a cave of sorts, and as they walked out, they realized they stood on a vast, sandy beach, with bright blue water surrounding them on all sides.

Lucy stepped forward and grinned at her companions. "We're home," she mouthed.

With a quick exchanged glance between Lucy and Susan, the two girls took off onto the beach, kicking off their shoes and socks, shrugging off their jackets and sweaters. The boys looked at each other briefly, and then followed suit.

The water was cold, not yet freezing, but a shocking jolt between the air and sand and water. They ran and splashed happily in the water, falling down, and kicking at each other, letting the salty spray up through the air. Peter grabbed Susan round the wrists and spun her around in the water, until they both fell down, soaking everything but the very top of their heads.

Edmund backed up in the water, when something caught his eye. "Where do you suppose we are?" he asked.

"Where do you think?" Peter asked, laughing.

"Well it's just…," Edmund covered for himself, feeling his cheeks grow a little pink. "I don't remember any ruins in Narnia."

Thus, their second adventure began.

_**End Part One**_

**A/N: There you have part one. I hope you enjoyed it, my little ducklings. Part two is, possibly most fun-filled part in this story. And probably the shortest. As many of my friends know, I'm a sadist when it comes to writing, and hate to let the characters have too much fun. Anyhow, please review! **


	5. The Second First Kiss

**_Chapter Five_**

_**The Second First Kiss **_

Returning to England the second time was harder than the first. Perhaps because they had willingly stepped through the portal into their old lives, though more likely, it was through the shocking realization that Susan and Peter would never return to their home, where they had reigned as husband and wife for fifteen years. Lucy had almost cried when they told her, filled with the sadness that must have been filling their hearts.

While they were in Narnia, however, Lucy noticed, Susan had seemed to attempt to become less responsive to emotion. Perhaps it was because, being thirteen hundred years late, she realized that her children had lived and died without knowing her; for all they knew she and Peter had gotten up in the middle of the night and deserted them. Deserting was always a bit of a touchy subject for Susan Annis, as she had opened up once or twice that it reminded her of the way her parents just up and left her at her godfather's house, not that she minded, it was better that way; but still.

Facing humans was a very different battle for the four, and while that is indeed a remarkable story, it is not this story. It would take a full different book to tell that story in detail, but, alas, this one must be finished. Thus, I cut to the end of the other story.

By the time the four reached the train station again, back from their second remarkable journey to Narnia, no one wanted to talk. They simply boarded the train to take them to different parts of England, saddened, and all feeling as though this was truly not their own world, and that they belonged in Narnia. Lucy, however, took what Aslan had said to heart. That Susan and Peter had learned all they could from that world, and they had to live in their own. That means that England was their true world. This was a bit of a conundrum for Lucy, as she had always been the happiest within Narnia Yet, there was something that just made her trust the Lion; her never-ending faith. Perhaps there was a way to become truly happy in England. She just had to figure out how.

She sat in quiet pondering, while Peter squeezed Susan's hand. When, suddenly Edmund, who had previously been staring out the window, turned to his wife and said, "When do you think we can go back?"

Lucy stared at him, wide eyed, as though to quietly remind him that it might be a sore subject for the other two in the compartment.

"It's just…" Edmund muttered. "I left my new torch in Narnia."

XXX Four Years Later XXX

Edmund took off down the stairs, two at a time, to his father's office. The door was open, and James was talking into the telephone. "What? No. That's absurd. There are absolutely no legal ramifications." He paused, I know…I know."

Edmund knocked slightly, and inched himself into the study, standing by the wall. He waved slightly as his dad, who held up his hand. Sighing, Edmund leaned up against the wall.

To him, it seemed as though every second ticking by on the old grandfather clock was days, months, or years. The actual years seemed like lifetimes. Edmund grew used to his way of life once more. Miriam would busy herself with her projects and garden parties—though, honestly, Edmund began to have a serious doubt about how much gardening actually went on.

James remained as steadfast a worker as always; although he developed a queer habit of working at home, in the study. Edmund scarcely noticed a change; he still wouldn't see James that much, the only difference was occasionally seeing his father through an ajar door, hunched over a stack of paperwork, or loudly cursing over a telephone.

James continued. "I don't care how damn good this attorney is, he hasn't got a bloody case. I know but…no. I've already got my own trial. You can't expect me to take over the planning out for this one to. Yes, I know Johnson is new. Then why was he hired in the first place if he's incompetent?"

Edmund sighed, a bit louder, and James glared, waving his son to be patient.

"Sister married to the judge's nephew? Well, how is that respectable? I know. The fact of the matter is, it's not exactly about that now is it? All it is, is a matter of giving other people the easy way out."

Edmund checked for dirt under his fingernails, and pressed his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

"No. No. Yes. I suppose. I don't care if I'd get paid for the time I spend on this case. I still have my own case to spend my time on. Yes…no, there are only twenty-four hours in a day. No, I don't get enough sleep as it is….no. No."

This time, James sighed. "Very well. I suppose I'll just have to make the time then. Yes, I see. All right. Have a good day. Good bye."

The "have a good day," bit was obviously fairly put on, if not by the tone, but from the way James just about slammed the phone down, it made it obvious that he had just lost an argument. He took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "All right, Ed,' he said, grabbing a cigarette and lighter off his desk. "What's up?"

Edmund stepped into the room tentatively, "Well, Dad, I'm not sure you know, but I'm going on a date with Lucy tonight."

"Rosenthal?" James exhaled a large cloud of gray smoke that hung in the air. "I didn't know you fancied her."

Edmund, awkwardly, nodded. "Yeah. I have for…a long time."

After another long puff from his cigarette, James asked, "How old is she?"

"She turned fourteen in May." Edmund said.

James was silent a moment, considering. "What did Helen say about you dating her daughter?"

"She's fine with it," Edmund said. "I asked her permission, for goodness sakes."

James put his hands up, in pseudo surrender, "All right, all right. So, what do you want to talk to me about?"

By this point, Edmund was rather discouraged, wondering why he had even gone to his father in the first place. However, he pressed on. "Did you ever…take a break with Mum? I mean, did you stop going together for a while, and then get back together?"

"Not exactly." James furrowed a brow. "What on earth are you on about, Edmund?"

Ignoring the exact question from James, Edmund continued on, "If you had, do you think that you still would've gotten married? Or do you think the absence might've given her time to find somebody else?"

He was terrified, obviously. Somehow, recently, Edmund had gotten it into his skull that the only reason Lucy had married him in the first place was the lack of any other human companions for a long time, visitors rarely ever looked at Lucy twice, more interested in the other, older, queen. However, now, the way Edmund saw it, he wasn't a big fish in a little pond, so to speak. He was a guppy in the ocean; and what girl would look twice at a little, worthless guppy?

James blinked, and then sighed once more. "Your mother was the only woman I ever had a real interest in, so I suppose I would have followed her wherever she went until she said yes to seeing me again."

XXXXXXXXX

Lucy finished buttoning up her dress, and then swished the skirt, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The blue dress didn't have any sort of special decorations, other than the white buttons on the front. It was the nicest dress she owned; Helen had sewn it herself. She looked at herself in all angles, making sure that her dress did not have any tares or washed-out spots. For a moment, Lucy almost laughed at herself; never before could she remember being so vain. Not even on her wedding day; she remembered having a crowd of dryads and faun ladies surrounding her, and her dress having been an antique; there was not much thought into making Queen Lucy look beautiful on her wedding day; Lucy Rosenthal, however, was on her own, and having a hard time with it, and only for a date.

She had braided the top layer of her hair and tied them together in the Narnian fashion that she would wear to festivals and royal picnics. Lucy smiled, wondering if Edmund would remember that it was the exact hairstyle she wore the day they had announced their engagement; for she only remembered herself because the two had purposely gotten her hair stuck in his crown, and had used that as an excuse to sneak off together, and avoid the large crowds.

"Lucy!" Helen called up the stairs, "Edmund's here."

Lucy gave a little jump, and rushed to the center of the room; Little Jacky was chewing on an old rag doll on her bed, lying flat on her pillow.

"Jacky," Lucy said, turning a bit, "how do I look?"

The dog looked upwards, with a rag doll hanging limply in his mouth, and blank eyes.

"What?" Lucy asked, frowning. "Is something wrong with it? Do you think Edmund would hate it?"

Little Jacky let the doll drop from his jaws, and wagged his tail.

Lucy smiled, unsure why she was so nervous. "I hope you're right."

She left the door open, in case Jacky would want to go downstairs later that evening, and she descended the steps, into the sitting room. She saw Edmund first, as he stood nervously, with one hand in his pockets, his hair was neatly combed, although he slightly mussed it up while he waited.

Lucy coughed a little bit, as she stood on the last steps and Edmund caught sight of her. He grinned broadly at her, and she instinctively tucked her hair behind her ear, biting her lip as she did so.

Once she reached the bottom step, the two teenagers stood for a while and stared.

Helen seemed confused by Lucy's hairstyle, but had enough tact not to say anything about it. Instead, she turned to Edmund and said, "What time are you going to get her back home?"

"Would ten thirty work well enough, Ms. Rosenthal?" Edmund said, with stunning manners.

Nodding, Helen said, "That's just fine, Edmund. Now, both of you, I'll be home all night, so be sure to be home on time."

Lucy nodded, grabbing her jacket from where it lay on the arm of a chair. She kissed her mother on the cheek. "Good night, Mum." She said, as Edmund grabbed the door and held it open for her.

XXXXXX

"Can't you give me a clue to where you're taking me?" Lucy asked, excitedly, as Edmund led her through the darkened streets that evening.

"And ruin the surprise? Absolutely not." Edmund grinned. "Besides, we're here."

Furrowing her brow, Lucy looked upwards at the back of a building. Edmund reached into his pocket, and pulled out a single, glistening key. He reached to the back door of the building, and twisted the key in the lock.

Lucy laughed slightly as she walked through the wide open doors, and blindly stepped into the dark building. `

"Do you trust me?" Edmund's voice came in the dark from directly in front of her. She could tell he was grinning at her, and close to her face.

Subconsciously, Lucy bit her lip again. "Of course; have I ever not trusted you?" came her reply.

"That was the wrong answer," Edmund said playfully as he grabbed Lucy's hand and led her through the dark. Suddenly, Lucy felt both of his hands on her waist. The world stopped for Lucy in that second. It was the most intimate physical contact she and Edmund since they had been in Narnia.

Lucy smiled in remembering; the fire had gone down to embers, and the cool night air had been crisp. At that time, the four children had only just gotten to Narnia, and stayed overnight in a small camp in the ruins of Cair Paravel (in the morning, they found their trunks underneath the ruins). Edmund had been lying on one side of Lucy, and Susan on the other. Sudan had been snoring loudly, for a while, when Edmund had finally said, "Lu, are you still awake?"

She had turned on her side nearly so fast as to give herself whiplash. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Edmund said surely. "Just…being here again, it's reminding me."

"Reminding you…of what?" Lucy had asked, coming closer to lie beside him; and he rebutted by wrapping his arm around her waist .

Edmund had turned to face her once more, "Promises. Do you remember what we promised last year? When we first came back to England?"

Lucy nodded, and Edmund continued. "When…when do you suppose is old enough? At least to start seeing each other in a way more than friends again?"

"I'm not sure." Lucy had blushed.

"When you're fourteen?" Edmund asked. "Maybe then I could take you out on a date, or something?"

Lucy nodded, and closed her eyes ready for sleep. "I'm looking forward to it."

That night, they must have gotten somewhat cold, for when they woke up to the morning light, Lucy was wrapped up in Edmund's school sweater, with him still inside of it.

Lucy jolted back to reality when Edmund seemed to lift her a few feet into the air, and sit her down on what seemed to be a cold, swiveling seat of some kind.

"Stay there," Edmund's voice said, and Lucy couldn't help but suddenly notice how deep it had gotten in the past few years. He sounded nearly like he had as an adult.

Suddenly, a lamp flickered on towards the other side of the room. Lucy looked about to see Edmund walking through the room, turning lights on just as Lucy's eyes were adjusting to the darkness.

Looking around, Lucy realized that they were sitting in the local ice cream parlor. She would usually meet with Alice there during summer, since it was the midway point between their neighborhoods. It usually closed by eight thirty and presently it was a little passed nine. It was then that Lucy realized that she and Edmund were completely alone inside the shop; not a cook, nor a waitress, nor a soda jerk stood around.

Lucy smiled. "Oh, Edmund. How on earth did you do this?"

Edmund made his way over to the counter and ducked beneath it. Then, as he began talking, he flipped some switches in machines on the opposite side. "The owner's an old mate of my dad's. They met in law school, actually; but he didn't want to go on to actually do law. Either way, they still get on well. He comes over every once in a while, and he and Dad have a cigar or a few drinks or something similar. To make a long story short, I asked him for a favor, and he said yes."

Lucy grinned. "While I'm glad he did. This is very thoughtful, Edmund. Very…different."

Edmund smiled, looking a bit nervous either way, and he revealed what he had been working on; an enormous sundae of sorts, without cream or cherries of course as that was unavailable at the time. He handed a spoon to his wife, and then kept one to himself.

As they dug in, they laughed, joked, and talked just as much, and as avidly as ever. However, beneath the easy conversation and memories was a stunning newness. For some reason, Lucy had butterflies, and it felt as though this was the first time she had begun to fall in love with Edmund Martin. She thought he was handsome, and he was funny; and all the things about his personality that could hardly be called virtues, well, they didn't matter.

Yet, still, in the back of her mind, she remembered what it was like, in the comfort of marriage, once the initial butterflies and rushing feelings died down, into the comfort of loving someone unconditionally, and knowing that they love you as well. It remained in the back of her mind, meanwhile, butterflies were flying in her stomach, and her heart pounded outside of her chest

"Can I walk you home?" Edmund asked, when ten o'clock came around, and they were done with their treat.

Lucy nodded slightly, and waited patiently as Edmund locked up the ice cream parlor. The streets were black, save for the streetlights above their heads. Edmund gallantly walked between Lucy and the curb, as they walked silently.

"Do you remember, Edmund, when we were courting in Narnia, the garden maze we loved?"

Edmund cocked his brow. "What exactly about it are you remembering?" he asked.

"Just how we would walk about and get lost, and run." Lucy smiled, and then blushed.. "It's also where you first kissed me."

During their reign, they would go on holidays to a smaller palace in the West, providing all was well and peaceful (although they would usually only go in pairs either way). The time Lucy was referring to was early on in their courtship. Susan and Peter were already married, but newlyweds, and the two had decided that they wanted to get out of Cair Paravel if at all possible, if only to get away from the newlywed's public displays of affection. They had both loved the maze from their first visit there, and immediately rushed to it whenever they got to their holiday home. That time, was no exception. Lucy had dared Edmund to race her to the center of the maze. Edmund had accelerated at the very end, scooped up Lucy to his arms, and spun her around as though she were already his bride. He had looked at her for a moment, while she laughed loudly. It was then that he had kissed her.

Edmund did remember all of that, however, being male, the thought that came to his mind firstly, was another memory. Shortly after their wedding, they had decided to go on a walk in the maze at midnight, an escapade that resulted in Edmund pushing Lucy up against the hedge, and a few other things afterward.

With this memory, Edmund turned away from Lucy slightly, doubling over as though he had a stomachache.

"Are you all right?" Lucy, clueless and innocent to a fault, asked.

Edmund turned red. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine."

They continued walking, as Edmund thought. All of the memories seemed a lifetime ago, or as though it was not even him who had done it. Looking at Lucy that night, in England, it felt new. For a moment he was worried that she wouldn't like him. After all, in Narnia, he had been a king, but he still never thought he was good enough for her; yet, somehow she loved him. And it seemed she would continue to. All of his thoughts were stupid, really; she had married him once and swore to do so again. However, even though he did not know it, he was just as nervous as Lucy was, if not a little more.

By the time they reached Lucy's front door, they were silent. It was, maybe, five minutes after the original curfew, for they had walked slowly on purpose. They stood on the front stoop, in the yellow glow of the porch light, for a minute or so.

Eventually, Lucy said, "Thank you, Edmund. I had a lot of fun."

"What? Oh, no problem." Edmund said after a moment, once he had brought himself back from where he was lost in thought.

Lucy nodded, sighed, and then waited. Once nothing came, she started to turn back towards the door. "Well, I'll see you later, then? Tomorrow?"

"Lucy?" Edmund asked, as though he had not heard her, and began to chatter senselessly. "Well, yeah. It was a great time. And I'd like to try again sometime soon. Maybe we could make plans again soon. Soon. Definitely. Yeah."

Lucy smiled, and began to laugh. Edmund turned red.

"Yeah, well. Good night." Edmund said, embarrassedly, and began to turn away. In that exact same moment, he turned around once more.

"Lucy!" he all but shouted. "I know it's not exactly proper for a first date, but would you mind…well, I was wondering. Could I, maybe, give you a kiss good-night now?"

Lucy let her jaw drop. Her heart began to beat outside of her chest, and her breathing increased. With a slight smile playing on her lips, Lucy said simply, "Edmund. You're my husband. You can kiss me whenever you like."

Relief washed over Edmund, who had only just realized that he had been anticipating rejection, even though it was a pointless worry. Shaking himself to sense, Edmund grinned. "Brilliant. "

Nodding, Lucy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and waited, as Edmund just stood there dumbly, consulting his own mind with the whole matter.

After a moment, Edmund lurched to attention. "Oh! Right. I should probably just…" he put his hands, palms up, in the air. "Do it, then."

They stood across from each other, staring. Edmund managed to, awkwardly, take Lucy's hands up in his. Slowly, nervously, he moved his face in towards her. Lucy, for some unknown reason, began to laugh, and the same nerve that had taken hold of Edmund in Narnia when they had first kissed there, took hold of him. And he put his lips to hers.

He only kept his lips on hers for a slight moment. Almost a hesitation, before he broke away. They stood there for a mere second, holding each other's hands. They stared at each other for the longest time. Within Lucy's house, Jacky was getting restless, as they could hear his yipping and scratching at the door, unused to his Lucy remaining outside of the house with Edmund for so long.

Edmund put his hand on Lucy's cheek. The only thought running through his head was that he finally knew, for certain, that she still loved him. He wasn't a king anymore, but she fancied him enough to allow him to kiss her, and now, as his other hand was working on its own accord, to her waist, she didn't as much as blink.

Lucy's mind, however, was swarming. Wondering about what would happen coming up with Edmund—immediately and later on; wondering if she ought to invite him in for a bit. She thought about what it would be like, to actually begin dating someone steadily in England, what exactly was the right amount of detail to tell to Marjorie and Alice when they saw each other the next day. Lucy even went as far as to remember so many little things from Narnia, and when she remembered, she found herself, almost detached. That, while it was still her, was no longer her reality. Her reality, and her relationship with Edmund, was different. But, she liked this different scenario just as well.

Jacky barked once more, breaking both Edmund and Lucy from their trancelike state. From inside the house, Lucy could hear her mother's heavy footfall come towards the front door, so as to let Jacky out.

"I suppose we should say good night now," Lucy said.

Edmund nodded, understandingly, though a bit unhappy. "Can I come over tomorrow?"

"I'm spending time with Alice and Marjorie tomorrow." Lucy said. "But I don't have plans the day after that."

"Sounds great." Edmund beamed, and before he turned away from the front step, gave Lucy one more quick peck on the mouth, before he turned away, and dashed across the street, as though he thought the whole scene with Lucy was only a mirage, and if he stayed he would find out it wasn't real.

Lucy, however, moved stunningly slowly, as she opened and closed the door to her house. Leaning her back against the door, Lucy slowly sunk down to the ground, savoring the memory, still feeling the pressure and heat of Edmund's lips on hers, and her waist still tickled from where he had held it, and in one of the signally most uncharacteristically girlish things she had ever done, gushed, "Oh, my gosh!"

Jacky dashed up to greet Lucy by putting his paws on her knees, as though to request she never leave him again.

"I'm home," Lucy called to her mother, as she stroked Jacky's long fur down his back.

Helen came into the room. "How did it go?" Helen asked, raising her brow.

Lucy flushed pink. "Fine." She said. "Perfectly fine."

Helen nodded, and waited expectantly.

"I'm tired." Lucy said clumsily. "I think I'll go to bed now."

She was halfway up the stairs before her mother could have any sort of reaction.

XXXXXX

Usually, if Lucy, Alice, and Marjorie did not meet up at the ice cream parlor where Edmund and Lucy had their date, they would sit on Alice's porch. The Littles had a normal-sized house, nothing terribly exquisite about it, other than the large porch it possessed, wrapping around the house like a boa constrictor, on both floors. Mrs. Little would usually entertain company on the porch, thus it contained a large swing, rocking chairs, and little tea tables. Alice's mother kept beautiful rose bushes in their front yard, outlining the house and making it look all the more grand. However, Lucy would always remember the story her friend told her about the time she had gotten in trouble for attempting to paint the white roses red, simply because she preferred the color to white. Alice seemed to get in trouble somewhat often.

However, the girl seemed to have skirted from any sort of mischief that day, for the very first words from Alice's mouth the instant Lucy sat down on the Little's porch swing that afternoon was, "How did it go?"

"How did what go?" Marjorie, who had been previously sitting on the rocking chair, mindlessly braiding her own hair, snapped to attention.

Alice grinned. "Lucy went on her first date last night."

Marjorie's jaw dropped. "With who? And why was I the last to know?"

"Who do you think?" Alice laughed.

"Edmund Martin," Lucy said.

Marjorie looked honestly surprised. "Edmund? He actually…" then she shook off whatever she was about to say, "Well, I'm happy for you, Lucy."

Alice squinted at Marjorie, as though she was wearing a terrible sort of mask, and then turned back to Lucy. "Well?" What was it like? I'd imagine it was very soft." Alice cringed, apparently thinking that she had used the wrong word, "Romantic, I should say too. After all, he is almost two years older than you."

"You're acting like that's a good thing," Marjorie mumbled quietly, and turned red to her friends' bewildered stares. "Oh, I didn't mean anything by that. It's only that…well, Anne's told me that Edmund's roommate likes to sneak the girls from St. Finbar's over to his dormitory. Or to that abandoned shack that he likes to use for whatever reason."

"What's that got to do with Edmund?" Lucy asked, crossing her arms around the chest.

"I only mean to say," Marjorie said, four years of friendship making her bolder than usual. "that Edmund's seen more than you have. Don't get angry, but Anne told me that she thinks he might have some experience as well…I just don't want to see you hurt, Lu." And by her tone, she really meant it.

Lucy turned crimson, and Alice rolled her eyes. "First off, Stephen Dawkins is an ass. I won't deny that. But he's not anything like what you're setting him out to be, I shouldn't think. Secondly, how would Anne know anything about Edmund? Gosh, Marjorie, times like these I think that you're turning into—"

"Alice!" Lucy interrupted. "Come on, be nice. I'm sure Marjorie didn't mean to say anything mean."

Alice shot Lucy a look intended to mean, "I wish you'd stop defending her all the time" but said absolutely nothing.

**A/N: Please review this one, guys. I'm not sure how I did. :\**


	6. Rumors

**Chapter Six**

**Rumors **

For a good portion of the summer, so it seemed, Lucy was, more or less, blinded by her romance reborn with Edmund, the long summer days and star-filled nights were nothing short of heaven to the girl. It was like the beginning of their courtship again; only with the comfort and reassurance of the memories of their married lives in Narnia. It was nothing short of perfection. This was why, even after August came around, she was surprised when her mother announced not to make any plans that evening, for Frank was coming over for supper.

Lucy blinked several times, in her own happiness, she had very nearly forgotten that Helen was seeing Frank at all, and with these feelings came a pang of guilt. Helen always asked Lucy about what she had planned with Edmund for that day, and Lucy never once asked about her mother's relationships. It did so seem like the right thing to do, and the adult part of her thought that she very much ought to, but the child in her found it a bit uncomfortable.

"Of course, Mum." She said. "Do you need any help making supper?"

Helen considered, getting ready to leave for work herself. "Maybe. We'll see how tired I am when I get home. I would appreciate it if you could do some cleaning up in here. Dusting, sweeping, you know; that sort of thing. If you could take the laundry off the line, I'd appreciate that too, dear."

Lucy nodded, waving off Little Jacky, who was suddenly bombarding her ankles by prancing about and trying to lick her knees. "Sure."

Helen laughed at the dog, and then, with one fist on the doorknob called to Lucy, "All right. Thank you so much."

The events following Helen's departure were less than productive. Lucy collapsed on the armchair, with Little Jacky immediately jumping up to sit on her lap. She laughed. "You're in an annoying mood today, aren't you?" she said, however stroking behind his ears and smiling all the while.

As if he knew what she was saying, Jacky merely barked in reply. Lucy promptly shooed him off her lap, and resolving to let the spaniel share the chair beside her, pulled out a book and began reading. She had long since worn out the binding on _King Arthur, _and sadly, had to retire the book. Instead, she read a new book that Alice had gotten her for her birthday by the title of _Silverlock._ At this point, the main character, Shandon, was doubting his own adventure, and not wanting to go into it at all. Lucy, honestly, found this a bit annoying. She remembered in her own adventures in Narnia, she got so caught up in it so quickly, that she scarcely had the time to be tentative. On the other hand, Susan was nearly always tentative, but Lucy found that annoying as well. She sighed, beginning to wonder if it was counterproductive to compare every fantasy book she read to her adventures in Narnia. After all, they always fell flat.

When push came to shove, _Silverlock_ was an interesting story, although not as epic as _King Arthur, _she appreciated the seemingly random characters from other stories making their appearances.

After several chapters, Lucy closed the binding over her book, and after briefly scratching Jacky from behind the ears, waking the poor dog up from a rather relaxing nap, she stood up and started on the chores. She knew the sorts of these already, they were her usual chores, after all. Starting with the laundry, Lucy used the pulley in the kitchen to bring the clothes in to the house.

Firstly, she unclipped her own blue dress, her three other skirts, her two pastel-colored blouses, and dark sweaters. After gathering the whole of her own outerwear, she haphazardly piled them into a basket, and took her mother's dresses. Thanks to Helen, the two Rosenthal women did not particularly dress as though they were as poor as they were, as when the woman found time and material, she could make some of the nicest outfits one ever saw. It only ever briefly crossed Lucy's mind, as she did not care one way or another, as long as she had clean clothes at all.

After clunking up the stairs, and tossing the basket of her own clothes on the floor, she made her way out towards the very back of the yard, with two smaller baskets attached to her hip, where Helen always hung the underclothes, brassieres, and socks. She simply unpinned the articles from the line and tossed them into the respective basket for which person.

She was very nearly done with this endeavor when someone from behind poked her in either side simultaneously. Lucy very well jumped two feet in the air; the response from the attacker was nothing more than good-natured laughter.

"Edmund!" she called, pretending to be cross.

Edmund wiped the laughter off his face in half a second. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to frighten you." To Lucy shaking her head, he held up his hands. "Honest. I really did think you have eyes in the back of your head."

Lucy laughed and picked up the baskets.

"So what are you up to?" Edmund asked awkwardly, noting the contents of the baskets, the adult part of him telling him it was not a big deal, and the boy in him wanting to stare.

"Chores." Lucy said. "Frank's coming over for dinner tonight, and Mum has to work, so I'm cleaning up for it."

Edmund nodded. "Want some help?"

Lucy nodded, and said, "Thank you, Edmund."

The rest of the chores passed, if not as quickly as they would have been finished if Lucy was on her own, in a manner a bit less boring. Edmund seemed entirely unaware of how a broom worked, and required Lucy's step-by-step instruction before he got the hang of it, and even afterward couldn't resist purposely running over her feet with the bristles as an excuse to give her an apologetic kiss between "I'm" and "sorry."

Lucy was still a great deal faster than Edmund, and managed to get the dishes and the dusting done by the time Edmund was ready to put the broom back in the closet.

"It's not my fault," he would insist whenever Lucy would jokingly mention something about how slow he was being. "I don't have to do chores at home."

"So your mum does everything?" Lucy asked while washing the windows, bemused.

"No." Edmund defended himself. "We have a maid who comes every other day now."

To this, Lucy couldn't help but laugh out loud. Softly, she mused. "It's a good thing that opposites attract, then."

"I don't think we're that different." Edmund said, grabbing a rag from the bucket of sudsy water, and began washing the window at the door. "I mean, in lifestyles yes. But, not so much in personality or anything that actually matters."

"I didn't say that it mattered." Lucy said, moving on to dry the window. "It's just…interesting."

Edmund plopped the rag back into the sudsy water. "What's wrong, Lu?" When his wife shook her head, he frowned. "I know you. Something's wrong. Tell me what it is, love."

Lucy sighed. "I'm trying not to let it get to me, I'm really not. But, some people have been saying some things. Trying to get me to not see you anymore."

"What people?" Edmund seemed a bit angry.

Sensing the sudden anxiety in their guest, Jacky barked three times, before getting some of the cleaning water splashed in his general direction, whereupon the little dog hightailed it in the opposite direction.

"Oh, don't get upset. It's partially Mum." Lucy said, "And I understand why. My father was a few years older than her, and she started seeing him at fifteen. She's afraid I'm going to make her mistakes."

Somewhat livid, Edmund jumped. "I am not going to get drunk and beat you! Why the bloody he—"

"I know that!" Lucy cut him off, "But she doesn't. And it doesn't matter what she thinks—she might be my mother, but this is my life. I'm in love with you, and nothing can break us. Till death. Remember?"

Edmund grumbled and resumed washing the dishes.

"And then…" Lucy asked timidly, something had been gnawing at the back of her mind. "What exactly do you and Dawkins do during the school year?"

"Dawkins?" Edmund blinked at the sudden apparent change in subject. "Why do you want to know about Dawkins?"

Lucy bit her lip. "What do you do when he brings girls to your dormitory?"

To this, Edmund laughed aloud. "Where did you hear that? He doesn't bring girls to the dormitory. He usually likes to keep his snogging to the common area, or to that shack he's crowned for himself."

Lucy was a bit shocked to find out how relieved she was. She did not think it had bothered her so much.

"Really," Edmund said. "The worst thing about him is his habits of pick pocketing. But, nothing that's alarming or anything." He paused. "Hey, Lu? By any chance, did your friend Alice ask you about that?"

Lucy shook her head. "Not exactly. Marjorie told us about the rumors, and all Alice had to say about the matter was that he was an ass."

"All right then, I see."

"Why do you want to know?"

Edmund chuckled. "He's absolutely mad about her. Why did you think he liked to tag along to see who was going to be with us when we met up on the weekends?"

"I didn't think about it," Lucy said, musing over the thought.

In a matter of hours, the house was clean, but Edmund had to make his way across the street to head home. "I wish that you didn't have to go," Lucy muttered, standing at the front stoop.

Edmund nodded softly, taking her hands in his. "I wasn't actually supposed to leave the house in the first place. I'm somewhat grounded."

Lucy stood agape, and then, recovering, she said, "But I am glad that you decided to break the rules, I'll admit."

Raising an eyebrow, somewhat suggestively, Edmund leaned forward, putting a hand on the doorframe. "I think I could break them a little more often."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Lucy rebutted, playing along. "Best not to get into bad habits."

Edmund shook his head, "Too late for that," he muttered.

In the next moment, he grabbed her round the waist, and kissed her. This time, however, it was different than the last few times. Those were merely innocent pecks, soft and tender passing moments. They were the sorts of things that young sweethearts give each other, the sort that nobody minds. This time, however, their past years of marriage showed, built up passion seeped through as their lips seemed to take control. Lucy threw her arms round his neck, and his hands remained stable at her waist, although twitching to go elsewhere. Tongue only flickered briefly until they came down, standing very close, breathing each other's air.

All in all, it was not the sort of thing that most people would do at the front door of their house. However, we shall have to forgive the two for their indiscretion, for they would be feeling the penalty soon enough; they did not see the jittery eyes of the gossip peering over the hedge, seeing the whole exchange. The gossip craned her ears to hear what they were saying. Sadly, this would not help either of the two's case.

"Thank you for coming over." Lucy said, slowly coming down from her tiptoes. "It makes things easier, since Mum's never around."

"Any time," Edmund said, moving one hand to hers. "See? You don't mind it when I break the rules. Makes things more fun for you."

"Just don't get into the habit, all right? I don't want you to get in trouble on my account."

"I get into trouble on my own, thank you." Edmund teased. "But, you make it worth it."

Lucy blushed, and Edmund pulled her inwards for an embrace, whispered something into her ear that the gossip could not hear. Lucy jumped and nodded excitedly, waving to Edmund as he turned back to his own house.

Stephanie Ford hid from beneath the hedges as Edmund reached his own house, her jaw dropping. So, Miriam Martin's son and Helen Rosenthal's daughter were more than just sweethearts, so it seemed. Well, it served both of them right for encouraging such behavior when they were young, and for not keeping an eye on their children! But, such a scandal, Stephanie thought. She had to let someone know, for she would burst at keeping this newfound knowledge to herself. It was too astounding for one person to know. Miriam tried to make her life seem perfect, but it seemed as though that was about to be undone. Thus, as soon as she was sure that neither of the two she had been spying on were looking out windows to see, she darted across the neighborhood, all but shouting what she had just seen, and thought she understood.

XXXXXX

Once Edmund had reached his house, Lucy turned round and sat, once more in the armchair, with Jacky soon back beside her, and took up _Silverlock _once more. An hour later, just when Shakespeare's Puck was making his appearance, the lock turned in the door, and Helen came in, with a large paper bag of groceries. Lucy shot up from her chair to help her mother put away the groceries.

"The house looks great," Helen said, giving the bag to her daughter. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Lucy said, putting the bag on the table, and put her hand into it, pulling out a rather large turnip. "They were out of carrots again?" Lucy guessed.

Helen nodded, reaching for a large pot and matches for the stove. "Would you like to help me with the soup?"

Lucy took on this job, alongside her mother. Together, they concocted some kind of rough soup, that came out a bit too thick to actually be soup, while Jacky stood on his hind legs, attempting to get mercy from his mistresses for an extra scrap of meat.

They both laughed and occasionally threw him down a bit of turnip or another vegetable, which Jacky smelled, and then looked up at the two, as if to say, "Are you teasing me on purpose?"

Once the soup was prepared, and water was pumped into a pitcher, Helen went to her room to change out of her work clothes when there came a sturdy knocking at the door.

Lucy went to the door, and on the other side, Frank stood, with a large bouquet of daises clasped in his chapped hands . He smiled at Lucy in his awkward way. "Erm, hullo, there Lucy."

"Are those for Mum?" Lucy asked, letting the man in.

"For the most part," Frank said, reaching in and handing one to Lucy.

Lucy smiled. "Thank you, sir."

It was then that Helen came in, dressed in the Sunday clothes that were scarcely ever worn. After merry, affectionate greetings from the adults, the three sat down to their soup. Frank and Helen carried on conversation well, and the occasional attempt to get Lucy to join the conversation always ended awkwardly, brought about by Frank's evident inability to carry on a conversation with anyone under twenty-one, thus, Lucy decided to just remain quiet unless absolutely necessary.

By the time supper was over, Lucy set about clearing the bowls and cups while Helen went to get a coffeecake out of the oven and tea started.

During this time, Frank spoke. "Nellie, did you tell her?"

Helen shot up with a steaming coffeecake in her hands, protected by a red dishcloth. "No. I was waiting for you."

"Tell me what?: Lucy intervened.

Helen put down the pan on a drying rack. "Frankly, Lucy, I'm surprised you didn't notice on your own." She said, holding up her hand.

It look Lucy a moment to realize, her mother was holding up her left hand, and on it, a little golden band stretched across the finger nearest her little finger.

"You're getting married?" Lucy asked, and to the nods from the adults, she grinned. "Well, congratulations, Mum! And to you, too, Frank."

Helen sat down at the table, and Lucy followed suit. "We haven't got all the details set up yet, but we're getting married next spring, and it'll just be a small affair in the small church across the road. A few friends, and we'll pull you from school for about three days."

"Are we going to move?" Lucy asked, before she had time to assess the somewhat thought. She blushed hearing it, realizing how selfish it seemed; it was obvious in Helen's eyes that her mother was reading her thoughts. She was worried about having to leave Edmund.

Helen drew her lips together and said, "No."

Frank elaborated. "I live in a little apartment, with a few other men. It makes rent easy, but not exactly the ideal place for a married man with a stepdaughter to live. It'll be easier since you already own this house."

It took some effort for Lucy not to breathe a sigh of relief.

Helen continued. "I still have to make arrangements, and it is a while away, but Frank and I are planning to go to Ireland for about a month after the wedding. I was wondering if during that time you'd like to go to Cambridge and visit your Uncle Jack for the time?"

Lucy brightened. "Really? Oh, yes. I'd like that very much!"

"I thought you might," Helen shook her head. "Now, who would like some cake?"

In fact, Lucy was rather excited by the idea of it all. She saw how happy Frank made her mother, it was extremely obvious, and of course, she was happy for her mother for finally going out and making herself happy. The only downfall would be going to Cambridge for the while, and not being able to see Edmund for the while she was there. However, she knew he would understand, and even more than that, he had told her briefly that James and Miriam were preparing a holiday to the States the next year, through June. It seemed as though things were truly looking up, and it excited her.

XXXXXXXXX

Edmund was lying flat on his stomach, scanning over an old book he swiped from his father's study; detailing English law from the Magna Carta to modern Parliament, when Miriam entered his room, looking rather red in the face.

"Hello, Mum?" Edmund asked, seeing the look in his mother's face, closing the book. "What's up?"

"You went over to Lucy's today?" Miriam asked, arms folded over her chest.

Edmund's jaw dropped slightly. "What are you talking about, Mum?" he recovered. "I'm grounded."

"Edmund Douglas Martin, don't you lie to me."

A bit taken aback by the harshness in his mother's tone. Edmund gave in. "All right, fine. Yeah. I went over for a bit…"

"And what were you doing?" Miriam's hands moved to her chest.

Edmund blinked. "I was helping her with her chores."

"Is that all?"

"Of course. What else would I be doing?"

It was as though Miriam had been holding her breath. "Okay. It's your word against Stephanie Ford's, and bluntly, I trust you more."

Edmund sat up. "Sorry. What?"

Miriam explained that Stephanie had stopped over, for the Martin family's "own good," naturally, and told her interpretation of what she saw. "Did she see anything?" Miriam asked. "Realize that I do have to get to the bottom of this."

"Okay, Mum," Edmund said, wanting as much as anything to lie. "She did see us kiss, but I swear that was it. I helped her with her chores, and then I went home."

Miriam nodded, and then sighed. "All right. I've just got a terrible feeling that this is only going to get uglier. What am I going to tell everyone?"

"Why do you care?"

"It's complicated." Miriam insisted. "I don't think anyone's ever explained to you how important reputation is for us. Your father's job can depend on it."

Edmund cocked his brow. "Someone wouldn't hire a lawyer because some busybody saw his son kiss a girl?"

"Maybe." Miriam nodded severely. "If it gets spread, maybe."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Edmund asked, in the manner showing that he saw the seriousness of the situation, and would honestly try to fix it.

Miriam shuffled. "The best thing for the situation would be for you to stop seeing Lucy, I think. But, I don't think you'd be willing to do that."

"You're right," Edmund said, crossing his own arms. "I'm not."

XXXXXXXX

Just as Miriam had been calm while interrogating her son about the rumors, one can imagine that the exact opposite happened when the rumors reached Helen on the way home from working a nighttime shift.

"Lucy! Get down here _now!" _Helen's infuriated voice carried up the stairs, and made Jacky jolt two feet in the air.

Lucy jumped up as well, and hurriedly pulling on her hand-me-down-from-two-generations-ago dressing gown, dashed down the stairs, calling, "Mum? Is something wrong?"

Helen simply stood there, waiting. "You let Edmund over here while I'm working?"

"Mum? What are you…"

"Yes or no. Does he come over here while I'm not around?"

Always being an honest child, Lucy was only able to pipe, "Yes."

Helen closed her eyes to calm herself down. "I'm going to be blunt now. And only because I've overheard people practically yelling from over hedges about this. Have you slept with him?"

"Mum!"

"Answer me."

Lucy hesitated. She hadn't been with him in England, and she's sure that what Helen meant. However, then why did her answer of the negative seem so much like lying?

Helen calmed down, and then pushed onward. "I don't want him here when I'm not around from now on."

Lucy nodded slowly. "All right. I suppose that's understandable."

Staring at her daughter, Helen asked again, in a calmer tone, "Are you sure? Lucy, I need you to be absolutely honest with me now."

Lucy could see all the pain in her mother's eyes. She knew that Helen was afraid of Lucy repeating her own mistakes, of being a failure as a mother. "Yes, Mum. I'm absolutely sure. Don't worry. I haven't done anything wrong."

The thing that was terribly ironic about that last sentence was that, even if the rumors were true, Lucy would still be able to stand tall and say that she did nothing wrong; for she was a married woman. However, what married woman would be given these kinds of questions about the matter? It seemed unfair, and for the first time, Lucy wanted to just run. Run and somehow make it back to Narnia, and give her back her life, where she could be in love with her own husband without a crop of do-nothings making everyone, even her own mother, doubt her.


	7. Loyalty

**/!\ This chapter contains tobacco usage involving teens, religious concepts, and a risqué situation. Reader's discretion is advised. **

**Chapter Seven**

**Loyalty **

Ultimately, while scouring the large crowds of people at the train station, Lucy was looking for Susan. Since Peter had graduated secondary school that past year, she thought that Susan might be a little depressed and could do with an old friend on the long train ride back to St. Finbar's. However, no such luck stood in store her.

She had already bid Helen and Frank good-bye, and waved as she boarded the train (also looking out of her peripheral vision for Edmund, who, she could see, was still occupied with his own parents). She shuffled into an empty compartment nearest the entrance her husband would be most likely to enter, and occupied herself with last night's paper and crossword.

Right while she was in the middle of trying to think of an eight-letter word for a dangerous circumstance, she heard the door to the compartment slide open and closed once again. She looked up, just in time to see Alice and Marjorie crowd in, meaning to sit across from their friend.

The girls smiled and greeted each other warmly, after the initial niceties were through, Marjorie mumbled. "I'm not sure I fancy our new uniforms this year. We'll have to make the best of it, I suppose."

Both girls nodded in understanding, it was the year that their old brown jumper was replaced by a skirt and blouse set. The skirts, however, tended to be rather unflattering, unless you were built like Susan Annis. The closest contender out of the three stood to be Alice; the other two resembled a straight line. However, the uniform was the main way their school told the difference from the upperclassmen and underclassmen, as all students bore identical jackets.

In the middle of this conversation, Edmund decided to make his appearance, having finally wrenched himself away from Miriam and James. He moved quietly, sitting beside Lucy without a second thought. "Hullo, girls." He said momentarily, before putting his face up to Lucy's ear and whispering. "When we get there, can I talk to you? Alone."

Lucy nodded briskly, and the conversation turned to something a bit more friendly to all in the compartment. This was a bit of a feat, since Marjorie made her discomfort obvious, despite the many looks from Lucy to tell her to stop it, and the many looks from Alice to remind her that she was being a prat.

They rode across England, it almost seemed to last forever, Lucy became tired, and as she rested on her husband's shoulder, she began to think about trains. She had been so frightened the first time she had been on one, but now, it didn't feel frightened at all, as though all possible hazards that happen on trains were rather void.

She was almost entirely asleep when the compartment door slid open again, this time holding the short, squinty figure of Stephen Dawkins.

"Mind if I sit here now? Got in a bit of trouble in my last compartment." Stephen grinned.

Edmund rolled his eyes. "How much money did you steal from them this time?"

"No more than they had."

Alice scoffed. "I shouldn't think so. You can't steal more than they had to begin with. Even though, every time you steal from them, the wind up with less. So, technically, you steal more than they have."

Stephen blinked. "You're mad, d'you know that, L'ttle?"

Alice shut up after that, and Stephen seemed a bit sorry he had said anything to begin with. Meanwhile, Marjorie tried Lucy for conversation, and the two girls began talking animatedly about little fancies they've had over the summer, different silly thoughts about anything astronomy to fantasy. Lucy would always harbor these fancies for a longer time than Marjorie would have to begin with. Lucy considered, and even if it was completely balmy, she would consider and play around with the idea. Alice continued to pout in her seat, while Dawkins and Edmund began a brief conversation about sports or something of that matter. Thus, the children spent the remainder of the railway journey.

Once the children departed for their own schools, Edmund pulled Lucy to a small corner of the train station. She waved Marjorie and Alice to go ahead, and turned her attention to her husband.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked.

Lucy nodded. "School should be better than the last few weeks."

Back in Finchley, rumors spread like wildfire at the hands of Stephanie Ford. People would sometimes stop and stare as Lucy would walk by with Jacky on the leash, although those weren't as bad as the ones who would turn away or whisper under their breath. Edmund got some grief as well, though not as much, as he never paid attention. However, with Lucy, it was brought right up to her face, and she couldn't avoid it.

What made it worse, however, was when it affected more than just the snobby members of Miriam's garden club. Lucy had been out grocery shopping as help for her mother, and out of the corner of her eye, saw the upperclassmen Anne Featherstone with another friend of hers.

As Lucy compared heads of cabbage, she heard their whispers.

"Yes, that's her."

"Really? Little Rosenthal? I can hardly believe it."

"But it's true. I could hardly believe myself."

"Well, she must be rather sluttish, I mean from the way she's dressed, I wouldn't be surprised if she hasn't got ten pounds on her! How could someone like Edmund Martin be with her?"

"Not only that," Anne agreed. "but she isn't even pretty."

That put Lucy over the edge. She had always known that she wasn't the most beautiful person in the world, but at her current delicate age, her appearance was really starting to matter to her. She had been so distraught, in fact, that Edmund was able to tell the very next time he saw her, a week later, that something was wrong.

When she told her husband what had happened, he tried to comfort her. "Oh, don't mind them. You know I don't care how much money you have."

To this, Lucy had still looked hurt. Edmund continued, "And as far as pretty goes, I don't think that there's anyone else who could be prettier."

Lucy had solemnly looked at him. "What about Susan?"

Edmund was startled. "Well, she's different."

Shaking her head, Lucy headed for the door. "I've got to feed Jacky."

Seeing that he had said something wrong, Edmund caught his wife's arm. "What did I say?"

"You really have to ask?" Lucy had asked, hurt seeping through her eyes.

"Yes, frankly." Edmund said. "I'm just one man. And hardly even that. I can't read your mind. Sweetheart, if this is about the pretty issue, just don't pay them any mind. As far as I can see, I'm the luckiest man in any world—England and Narnia, and anywhere else. I'm in love with you: I can't see why you're so upset, just because two horrible girls insulted you. Don't let it get to you."

Edmund was unsure if she actually listened to his advice, for he still caught her looking sadly into looking glasses, although he pretended not to notice her, and secretly wondered why exactly the best thing in his life hated what looked back at her in the mirror.

Thus, he watched after her, asking her if she was to be all right through the school year, when their interactions were limited to weekends.

He lifted his brow. "You sure? Because I can be at St. Finbar's and in your dormitory in two minutes of you need me."

Lucy blinked. "You'll get in trouble. The nuns can be really strict."

"I don't care." Edmund said definitely. "I just don't want to see you hurt."

Lucy promised that she'd tell him if she heard anyone else say anything of the matter to her, wondering how exactly a neighborhood rumor could get to someone like Anne Featherstone.

XXXXXX

At Hendon House, Edmund began to feel the sting of the heavy workload nearly all of this professors for the term seemed fond of. His social life become shockingly limited to only Dawkins, and then another chap who offered to tutor him in French in exchange for smoke_s _(apparently, his parents didn't give him pocket money), which Edmund would borrow from Dawkins for free. The origins of these cigarettes were probably the pockets of their classmates, but Edmund had developed a "don't ask, don't tell," policy with his roommate.

During the week, Edmund was either at class, or in his dormitory, clicking at his typewriter, or scratching on paper with a tobacco joint between his teeth. This was a habit he had only begun that year to calm him for exams, and it became a part of the average day. If not doing these things, Edmund would occasionally make his way to the pitch and play a game or two of football or rugby if any extra players were needed.

Every weekend, however, he met up with Lucy. Sometimes a friend of theirs tagged along, but usually they were alone. Those two days were what sustained him through the term. They walked about it town, had lunch or picnics, and simply enjoyed each other's company; occasionally finding lonely corners in pubs or sheds for the few moments to snog.

Sometimes, Edmund began to think that he was beginning to make a bit of a rebel of her, on the few rare Sundays where she decided to leave before Confession to meet up with him. When Edmund mention this, Lucy merely responded to him with, "I've just got the feeling that….well…why shouldn't people be able to talk to God themselves? Get forgiveness without Father Gregory telling you that you've got it? You got forgiveness from Aslan without having anyone else ask him for you. Why should we here? I'm not saying that they're wrong. But, from what I've lived through, it doesn't add up."

Edmund squeezed her hand, which was intertwined in his, "Well, love, that's Narnia; this is England. Things are different here."

Lucy shrugged. "Somehow, I think they should work the same way."

"You're the one going to a religious school. I suppose you know about it better than I do."

Regardless of Lucy's apparent disagreement with Catholicism, she still usually attended Mass and Confession, which left the married couple with only Saturday and Sunday afternoons. After they kissed once or twice to keep them through the week, parting for the night several times, they returned to their respective schools, counting the days until Saturday, or until they could sneak off again (this was another school rule that neither of them felt terribly bad about breaking).

Lucy, during the week, was forced to juggle friends, so to speak. Alice had decided that she wanted as little to do with Marjorie as possible.

When Lucy had asked Alice why, the latter had simply muttered. "I should think most people have gotten tired of her whining."

"I don't think she whines," Lucy said, feeling odd about defending one friend to another. "Come along now, be fair."

Alice's temper flared. "Oh, bother that. Don't you want your friends to be fair to _you_?"

"What are you talking about?" Lucy crossed her arms.

Alice sighed. "Lucy, I should still want to be friends with you, and you know how I do hate gossip, but the very whole truth is that Marjorie talks about you behind your back. She's a two-faced Jabberwock, that's what she is."

"A _what?" _

"Never mind," Alice brushed it off, "It's from a poem Mr. Dodgeson wrote for me once. I thought I told you about that. Anyway, Lucy, she wants the older girls to like her, wants to be grown up (what's the use for that, I have no idea,) so she tells them things if they ask for it. How do you think Anne knew about those dreadful rumors?"

Lucy sighed, always having the benefit of the doubt. "I don't think I can believe that. I mean, Marjorie's been such a wonderful friend, so have you. She's a bit preoccupied, but I don't think she's ever hurt me. Alice, don't make me choose between you two. If you make me choose, I don't think I can be friends with someone who would."

"I'll not make you choose," Alice smiled. "But, understand, that I don't want to be near her. She makes my blood boil."

With this in mind, Lucy was careful to vary her time evenly between her two friends; consequently, both girls seemed happier this way. Marjorie proved less shy, and Alice became even more eccentric, and began mentioning Mr. Dodgeson more, as though she had been afraid to in front of Marjorie.

However, Lucy couldn't help but notice that, when she wasn't with them, Marjorie did in fact flock to Anne and her friends, while Alice chose to be alone, drawing the queerest things; blue caterpillars, smiling cats, and of course that rabbit in its waistcoats.

Although Lucy did not want it to happen this way, she found herself with Marjorie more and more. She didn't outright ignore Alice, but Marjorie simply seemed to monopolize her weekdays, and Edmund always had her weekends entirely. Thus, Alice slowly began to fade from the picture.

Even though Lucy's friendship with Alice was suffering, Edmund's relationship with Stephen was growing stronger. This was a good thing as well, for together they seemed to find more trouble than they knew what to do with.

One evening the two were coming back from supper, when a boy nearly twice Edmund's size and nearly triple his weight called out, "Dawkins!"

Stephen turned on his heel, and eyed the boy, noticing the crowd gathering around. "What d'you want?"

"What do I want?" the boy sneered, "I want my pocket watch back."

"Your pocket watch back?" Dawkins blinked. "I've lifted watches 'fore, but never a pocket watch back."

The boy lifted his fists. "You trying to be funny? That's big talk for a puny little blighter."

Edmund stepped in here, between the boy's fists and Dawkins' nose. "He didn't take your bloody pocket watch. Nobody's stupid enough to steal from an ox."

Stephen whispered. "Actually, it ain't that hard to steal form the big'uns. They're used to people squeezing by 'em."

"You really aren't helping your case here," Edmund hissed.

"When you two ladies are done," the boy said. "You'd better give me my pocket watch."

"If I had it…" Dawkins began, but was cut off by the headmaster pushing through the crowd.

"What is this madness?" the headmaster roared.

"Dawkins stole my pocket watch." The boy said with fake innocence.

The headmaster turned to Dawkins. "Let me see your watch. I see it on the chain in your pocket."

Dawkins begrudgingly took the watch out of his pocket, "But it's mine!" he swore.

"Please." The boy smirked. "Everyone knows he's got some kind of problem. He took eleven pounds from my roommate yesterday."

The headmaster began to glare, and here, Edmund decided to intervene.

"Sir," he said. "If you'll look on the engraving on the watch, it's bound to have S.C.D on it. Stephen Charles Dawkins. It's actually his. He might take a few things, but he always gives them back when he's caught."

"It ain't that often though," Dawkins mumbled, receiving an elbow in the stomach from Edmund.

"Well, what has anything Stephen's done in the past have anything to do with this? He hasn't been near this big fellow all evening. You can't use things people have done in the past to convince them of something that's, honestly, completely unrelated. You do need proof, sir." Edmund said, holding his breath, and hoping that standing up for his roommate wouldn't get him in trouble, for it was a Friday, and if he did, he might miss going out on Saturday.

The headmaster looked to Edmund. "And why would Porter accuse Dawkins of stealing his watch?"

Edmund sighed, the answer came easily enough, "Dawkins spent last weekend with his girl, sir. Yes, it's rude, but it's not stealing. Actually, it's not breaking any rules at all, he was off grounds, after all."

The headmaster ran his fingers through his beard, deep in thought. Eventually, he said, "I can't see any more problems here. Back to your dormitories, boys." Just as Edmund turned to leave, with Dawkins patting him heartily on the back, the headmaster called after him, "Wait a minute, Martin. Your father is a lawyer, correct?"

Edmund, a bit taken aback said, "Erm, yes sir."

"Defense?"

"No, prosecution."

"Has he ever taken you in to see a court session? Or has he taught you anything?"

"I've read a few of his law books, but other than that, no sir."

The headmaster nodded. "Well, you may want to consider doing into your father's line of work. You've got a knack for it, Martin."

When Edmund told Lucy about this she seemed amused. Edmund furrowed his brow, asking why.

Lucy replied, "It's just that, well, he's right. You would make a really good lawyer. And you do try to get to justice with just about everything…"

"Yes," Edmund said, "I just don't think I can see myself going through with law school and all that."

"Why not? You're always borrowing your father's law books. I thought you were interested." Lucy asked delicately.

"I am," He reassured her. "It's just that, well, at one point, I made the rules. If it wasn't fair, I'd still have to work within other people's rules."

"Or," Lucy smiled, "you find ways around the rules to get what you want. You already do that a bit."

Edmund blinked, and laughed, whether she was joking or not, he was unsure, but the whole conversation was somewhat humorous. As they were talking, they came up to an old, run-down milk shed, all boarded up and foreboding over the busy city streets.

"Say," Edmund murmured. "I do think that's the old shack Stephen goes to usually. What do you say about having a look around inside?"

Lucy frowned, having heard from other girls who had gone into that shack. "I don't know."

"He's staying in the dormitory today," Edmund pressed. "He's got a chest cold, claims it's from the new brand of tobacco he's been using this week, though I like the new stuff better. Either way, what do you think?"

As they say, curiosity killed the cat, and Lucy consented. They walked around the shack, and eventually found a loose board, which opened up to a larger hole, that they were able to crawl through and enter the building.

It was dark and mostly empty at first glance. Edmund found a lamp in a corner, and once it clicked on, they were able to see the proximity of the room, in a cool white light. Small wooden boxes lined the walls, and once investigated, held any amount of treasures; watches, cigarettes and cigars, a few wads of money (a total, Edmund guessed up to fifty pounds or more), letters, pens, pins, hats, and even socks and scarves.

"That's where he keeps it," Edmund mused, looking through the boxes.

Lucy looked confused. "Sorry?"

"Well, every once in a while, a professor will get fed up with hearing people complain about what Dawkins took from them, so they check our room. They go through both of our trunks and drawers. I always though he had loosened a floorboard and took them, or else had them exchanged for money immediately. Apparently, he keeps it here, in these boxes."

Lucy nodded, not exactly thrilled with Edmund's roommates hobby, but knowing better than to try and fix it or bring it up, she turned her attention elsewhere. In the darkened corner, they found, a hammock attached to the wall. It was full of dust, as though nobody had laid on it in months. Edmund lowered his brow. "I wonder if this is where he goes after the school year gets out?" he thought aloud.

"Why wouldn't he just go home?"

"Doesn't get along with his family at all, Lu. He's told me that he doesn't go home, prefers to tramp about England on his own. He tells his family he stays with…well, me, on the holidays."

Lucy frowned, feeling rather sorry for Dawkins, ass or not. However, steadily, she became distracted as Edmund slowly sat down in the hammock, swaying for a moment to gain equilibrium.

Once Edmund made himself comfortable, he sprawled out backward, with his hands on the back of his head. He drew a long, dramatic yawn. "Well, I am rather tired, Lu. So, I think I'll just go to sleep now. Goodnight."

Lucy knelt down by the side of the hammock, and rocked it back and forth, laughing as Edmund jolted upward, almost falling himself, but using the sway to his advantage, he managed to grab Lucy's hand and pull her towards him, so that she was lying flat on his stomach by the time she landed.

They started off the whole scenario laughing, until Edmund reached up to tuck a lock of Lucy's hair behind her ear (and consequently out of his face). At his touch, the two drew into complete seriousness, a kind quite unknown by most adolescents. They stared at each other at this, one of his hands still holding her wrist, the other had fallen from her face to her waist, nearer to the hip than he had dared before. She had one hand keeping balance (this was the hand he still held) and the other held onto his shirt at the shoulder.

He leaned upwards only slightly, and Lucy, accordingly, moved her head downwards. They kissed, their lips opening and closing at each other, parting for a moment, only to come back again. As they did so, Lucy slipped next to him on the hammock, so she was curled around him, rather than directly on top of him. Once more, it was the sort of thing that no one else should see, and thankfully, this time, nobody was there to spy. They pulled away slowly, Edmund's eyes were open before Lucy's, and he stared as they opened; he never got enough of her.

"I miss you." Edmund said quietly after they had both stared for as long as five minutes.

Lucy smiled, "I'm right here."

"I want you as a wife, not as…well, whatever we're forced to be here. I miss seeing you first thing in the morning, I miss being able to hold you at night, I miss going at life together. I miss being able to see you whenever I want, and I hate the fact that we have to pretend."

"I know," Lucy said, finding her grip on his shirt tightening. "I miss it, too. But, we've got to be thankful for what we do have. We still have each other, and we still love each other. We've still got a fighting chance, Aslan willing."

"I'm tired of fighting. When can I just win the battle?" Edmund seemed annoyed.

Heart beating up into her throat, Lucy found that even looking at her husband in that moment made her eyes ache as though she had been staring at the sun; and her heart swelled, hurting in the feelings of love for him. All she said was, "All you ever needed to do was ask."

"Seriously?" Edmund seemed shocked.

Lucy nodded. "You're my husband. I owe you more than I owe any other person in the world, you call and I will go to you. Just…please, not here. It feels odd."

Edmund nodded, a bit overzealously, to the point where Lucy laughed. He coughed to cover for himself. "Well, then. What now?"

With the previous conversation still burning in their minds, neither could think of anything to say. It was, again, a promise that they owed to each other. Of course, it wasn't a moral obligation getting to either of them, for there is nothing immoral about two married people promising to this, in fact it's one of the most normal things among spouses. It was more nerves, for these was still that childish part of them, contradicting their heads and the deepest parts of their hearts, seeming to want to put a stop to what they both knew they needed.

Once they decided to get up, they left the shack and walked in silence. Edmund thought about what Lucy had told him. The closest thing to any sort of angel or heaven-dweller that he was sure he would ever see, had secured something more than the promise of physical attention, it meant more than that; it meant that, even though they had been saying this since the beginning, they really were still married, and nothing could change that.

Lucy's mind, on the other hand, was swarming. Every little jump her heart was telling her popped up, and every pulse of her brain made themselves known. What she knew to be right and wrong, what she felt was right and wrong. She wondered if she could have to lie, or rather, how often. What would happen in years, what would happen instantly. Everything that had changed ran through her head as though in a montage, and the few things that were the same. She wondered what Aslan would think of the situation, but figured that he wouldn't be angry. Thus, it was safe to say that just about anything and everything was running through her mind at that moment.

The curfew for St. Finbar's was strictly at eight o'clock, no exceptions. They locked every single gate but one, and there was someone watching the gate, ready to prepare the late girl with a punishment for being late, and of course, the opportunity to go to confession for whatever could be keeping them late.

Thus, at seven forty-five, Edmund and Lucy arrived at the gates to the latter's school. After a long embrace and a brief kiss goodbye, they stood hand in hand for a moment. This wasn't such an uncommon practice, for many girls from St. Finbar's went with boys from Hendon House, thus there were several couples in the center ground doing the same thing.

Edmund squeezed Lucy's hand. "So, I'll see you next week?"

Lucy nodded sadly, thinking how long seven days really did seem.

Seeing the look on his wife's face, Edmund said, "I'd suggest sneaking out on Wednesday or Thursday, but I've got a rather big French test to study for." Mumbling under his breath, Edmund put in, "Je déteste la langue Française."

Assuming that her husband had just mentioned his hatred of the French language, Lucy nodded sympathetically. "That's all right. It will give me Saturday to look forward to."

The couple kissed goodbye once more, and then slowly parted ways, both saddened and exhilarated in a way that they had not been in a long time.

**A/N: Please review on your way out!**


	8. What Happened That Summer

**Chapter Eight**

**What Happened That Summer **

If there was one thing that Edmund had wished he had learned earlier in the term, it was that failing his final examinations in two classes, and nearly failing a third, would alter his plans for going to America on holiday with his parents. Then again, not spending his time wisely in studying for French, English, and history hardly seemed worth the hell his parents had to put him through by stripping him of the trip, and thus forcing him to stay for the month with his dreadful family, the Scrubbs.

Although he was used to being able to do whatsoever he wanted, and his parents keeping themselves busy, living with the Scrubbs was an entirely different story. His Uncle Harold ignored him at all times, but he almost preferred that, although he couldn't help but make a few faces at his uncle now and then. Aunt Alberta's nagging, on the other hand, never ceased. Not only would she harass him about finishing his dinner plate with the disgusting vegetarian food, but she had forbidden him from smoking in the house. It was their rules, and since the Scrubbs were non-smokers, it was somewhat understandable, until Edmund's compulsive need for tobacco took him out in the rain on a long walk, as Aunt Alberta didn't want him smoking on the porch either, because the windows were always open and the smoke would find its way inside the house. It all put him in a surly mood otherwise. None of the issues he had with his aunt or uncle could even begin to equal his quarrels with his cousin.

Eustace Clarence Scrubb, if anyone ever so deserved a name, had always been a thorn in his side, ever since they were little. Edmund had a rather good memory of one of the family Christmas parties, Eustace brought out his collection of bugs nailed to cards in a mad attempt to show off. It only made the girl second cousins scream and run away, and gave Edmund the perfect excuse to hit him. However, James saw right past that excuse (Edmund had been going through a phase where he didn't quite like his girl second cousins), and from that Christmas on, they went to the Martin side of the family for Christmas. Good riddance, Edmund had thought, and still did, if only there was a way to leave.

From childhood, Eustace and Edmund were enemies. They disliked each other, and that was the only thing they ever agreed on. During Edmund's stay, Eustace quite warmed up to the idea of bossing his cousin around and bullying him constantly. If Edmund ever forgot that he was only a guest, he would have hit him a thousand times over, beating him into a whiny, puny, little pulp.

On a cloudy, blustery day (though surprisingly not rainy), Edmund was out doing the grocery shopping for Aunt Alberta, because it was terribly demeaning to assume that a woman should always do the groceries. In his head, Edmund bitterly mumbled about how shopping for groceries was usually a fun and social experience for his own mother, who made a social event out of everything, but begrudgingly went.

After a few awkward glances from shoppers everywhere, Edmund finally gathered all of the foodstuff necessary for the next few days. He debated buying some kind of meat, and nearly brought it to the counter, but ultimately decided it would be better not to rile them up any more than they already were.

He straddled the bike seat, and was just about to push off, when he saw an oddly familiar spaniel trotting around on the end of a leash across the street. Taking another look, Edmund could see a balding man walking down the sidewalk, his face hidden inside of a book. The fact that someone was walking down the street reading a book strangely didn't puzzle him as much as the fact he was almost positive that the dog was actually Little Jacky. He knew the dog well enough to spot it. It was only as he began to ride away, in puzzlement, that he noticed that the reading man was not the one holding the leash for the dog; the holder was a girl walking beside him.

Craning his neck around to spot the girl walking with the reading man, he scarcely got a decent look at her, but a passing glance was all he needed. It was his Lucy. He just knew it. Lucy was in Cambridge at the same time he was, and he did not even know until then

The exchange got Edmund rather riled. Lucy's being there could very possibly be his saving grace. He began to imagine spending the rest of the month with his wife, at her uncle's house. It would turn the summer from hell to heaven. That was, if he could find out where her uncle lived.

After dropping off the groceries on the front table, Edmund grabbed the telephone book and made a mad dash up the stairs, so as to not attract the attention of his cousin.

Once he slammed the door to the guest bedroom, he grabbed a cigarette off the bedside table, lit it, and began looking over the phonebook, attempting to find a Jack Lewis somewhere in there. Occasionally he would look around the room, at the boring, plain walls, but then at the only picture in the house that he liked. It was a beautifully colored painting of a ship, and in fact, it looked so very real, and in fact, so very Narnian. He didn't like to look at it for very long, however, because it was only just a reminder that he was stuck at the Scrubbs' house, and not back in Narnia.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, Edmund flashed a glance sideways, and there was his cousin, standing with a snobbish look on his face. "I'm going to tell Alberta you're smoking in the house."

Edmund rolled his eyes and sat up. For a moment he considered simply ignoring the prat, in hopes he'd go away. When Eustace didn't, Edmund's reply came forcefully, "Don't you ever knock?"

Eustace ignored him. "It's a dirty habit. Makes your breath smell like smoke, you know. It's awful."

"You won't see me doing it from the other side of the door."

"My clothes can't smell like smoke," Eustace insisted. "I'll lose the school hygiene award for next year!"

Edmund smirked, blowing out smoke in the general direction of Eustace's face. "Then lose it."

"Ugh!" Eustace spluttered. "How does that sketty girlfriend of yours bother to be around you?"

In the next second, Edmund's fist found its way to Eustace's nose. "Don't. Talk. About. Lucy."

Eustace brought his hand up to his nose, in attempt to stop the heavy nosebleed. "I'm telling Alberta!" he screeched, and began for the door.

Edmund slammed the door in front of Eustace's face. "Telling her what? If you're going to tell her that I beat you, I might as well actually do it."

In a failed attempt to puff his chest out, Eustace only managed to whimper, "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. And, really, I think it's about time that karma began to catch up with you." At that moment, Edmund was prepared to send his fist into his cousin's stomach, but was stunned out of it when something cold and wet hit him on the back of the head.

He turned around to see that the painting on the wall seemed to come to life. The water was raging, and the ship pictured seemed to be getting closer. The waves slopped into the guest bedroom and quicker still, seemed to fill it.

"What? What's this?" Eustace demanded.

Edmund ignored his cousin and walked a bit closer to the painting. Magic. It had to be.

"I'll just smash the rotten thing then," Eustace said, and ran forward. Edmund tried to grab his cousin's shoulders and wrench him back, but to no avail. In knocking the painting down, the room filled with water. In a moment, it seemed as though the whole room had gone under.

Not having the time to take a large breath, Edmund found himself almost instantly lightheaded. He scrambled around, trying to gather his bearings enough to open his eyes, so that he could make his way to swim through the frame, and upwards.

Once he surfaced, Edmund began treading water and looked around. Eustace was panicking, splashing around in the water like a drunken pelican. Edmund supposed he really ought to go and try to calm him down, however, he took a second to notice the ship. It was heading straight towards them; it's single purple sail sending it forward at breakneck speed. A group of men suddenly came diving off the side of the ship.

A man came around, swimming towards him, Edmund looked around to see the familiar face of his friend from the last time he was in Narnia. "Caspian?"

"Edmund!" Caspian said, spitting out seawater. "Welcome back to Narnia."

Thus the two swam closer towards the ship, with a few other sailors trying to drag Eustace towards the ship as he cried and whined, screaming out, "I don't want to go! I want to go back to England! Take me back to England!"

Over the roar of the waves, he could hear a great deal of shouting and hullabaloo. Many people were on the railings of the ship, throwing ropes down to the water. Edmund grabbed hold of the rope as the crewmen began to pull him upward over the side of the boat.

Once he reached the deck, a group of crewmen cleared his way, and a few handed him towels. He looked about, a crew of men, minotaurs, and fauns stood about him. Up ahead of him, Caspian was duly drying off, talking with a bald man, that Edmund took to be the captain. He began to approach his old friend, when someone else caught his attention.

At first, (though he would never tell anyone this out loud) he thought it was just another sailor, a young boy in dark blue sailor's breeches, with a white and red doublet. However, the hair was too long, and a face that Edmund would know anywhere.

"Lucy!" Edmund cried out at the sight of his wife.

Lucy was standing against a railing on an upper floor of the ship, and grinning broadly at the sight of him. "Edmund!" she called out, dashing down the stairs.

The next thing he knew, Lucy had run into his arms. "I was afraid," she said, kissing him soundly, "that you wouldn't come too."

"And let you have all the fun?" Edmund grinned, "Never."

Running her hands up his drenched sleeve, Lucy laughed, "I think you went for a swim."

"Now I've got you all wet, too. Sorry."

Lucy opened her mouth to speak, when a thrashing on the port side of the deck.

Eustace was rolling about on the deck, while a furry mess of brown seemed to move around on top of him. "Get it off!" the boy cried, "get it off!"

The furry mess of brown took off from atop Eustace, and made its way down the deck, revealing it was not a furry mess at all, but Reepicheep, a valiant Mouse knight from Edmund's last adventure in Narnia.

"Hello, Reep." He said, as soon as he recognized his friend.

Reepicheep suddenly straightened up, "Your Majesty!" he said.

At this point, Eustace had gotten onto his feet, spluttering out water. "That weird rat-thing tried to claw my face off!" he shrieked.

"I was merely trying to expel the water from your lungs, sir." Reepicheep replied politely.

Eustace then began to get into such a tizzy about Reepicheep talking, a phenomena that no one else on board saw at all strange. "I don't know what sort of practical joke this is, but I want to go back right now!"

During this, Reepicheep looked slyly up to Edmund, "Perhaps we could throw him back?" he looked up, optimistically.

Edmund had the feeling that Eustace would probably sink like a rock, however, the portal to England seemed to be on the sea floor, so perhaps his cousin would get lucky and fall back in. If not…well, he could figure that out later. All in all, it seemed like a pretty good deal to him; he began to seriously consider this as an option when he felt an elbow in his side.

"Edmund!" Lucy stared at him with her jaw agape, as though the idea was completely barbaric to her. If Edmund hadn't been interrupted, chances are he would have said something about how his past living conditions had been.

"I suppose we should get you into something dry. Lucy, I suppose you could get him into something of mine in your chamber…" Caspian interrupted, gesturing for the two to go upstairs. "I'm sure that if my things fit you and me, they should fit Edmund rather easily."

Lucy nodded, and began to head up the stairs, with Edmund shortly behind her. Her murmured once they were away from most of the crew, "You're wearing Caspian's clothes?"

"Yes," Lucy said, "Why?"

Edmund just murmured something that no one else heard, but recognizing the tone, Lucy turned on her heels.

Cocking an eyebrow, Lucy asked, "Ed, are you jealous?"

"No." Edmund said entirely too soon, and then blushed, and turned the conversation. "So, how long have you been here?"

Lucy turned the golden doorknob leading to a private cabin, "A few weeks, I think." She said, leading him into the cabin.

It was a lovely thing, with large square windows overlooking the calm, blue sea. There were many cushioned seats and benches, as well as a large, downy bed against the far wall. A shiny table was nearest one of the windows, and a dwarf-made lamp swung overhead. Most importantly, there was a golden image of Aslan's head hanging above the low door.

Lucy bent down in the trunk, and pulled out some sailor's clothes, and gave them to Edmund, she then sat down on the bed cross-legged.

Edmund stripped out of his clothes first, and then pulled up the breeches, talking with Lucy. After telling her about his journey over, and summer, he asked, "How did you get here?"

"I have no idea." Lucy shrugged, "I think I fell off Uncle Jack's balcony, actually. I just sort of, landed in a pile of rope."

"Were you hurt?" Edmund looked around for a belt.

"No, not really," Lucy stood, grabbing a belt for him from the trunk, and came to him with it. "Here, let me help you. These are a little trickier than belts in England."

Edmund held his breath, hoping that the physical effect she usually had on him wasn't showing up. Although the moment she began securing the belt around his hips, he turned his face towards her, and put one of his hands on the back of her neck. "So, how long has it been since you and I shared a bed?"

Almost instantly, Lucy said, "Seven years and five months."

Furrowing his brows, Edmund said, "You remember that, exactly?"

Lucy nodded. "Well, that's how long it's been since we were in Narnia. Not counting the very last time we went, but the last time we were adults."

Deciding to seize the opportunity, Edmund grabbed Lucy's hips and kept him close to her, murmuring, "How about making up for lost time?"

Lucy bit her lip, in attempt not to laugh, knowing that it may offend him, although there was nothing funny about it. She looked away from his eyes, and almost found herself staring at his chest, realizing that it was the first time she had seen him even remotely undraped in years. It did make her heart pound so. Snapping herself out of it, she pushed away slightly. "I think that we should focus on getting you dressed before getting you _out _of anything."

"Five minutes?" Edmund took one hand to run it through her hair.

Lucy stared at him in disbelief.

"Ten?" Edmund recovered for himself. "Okay, why do I get the feeling that I just said something wrong?"

Shaking her head, Lucy stepped back from her husband, and threw him his doublet. "Just put something else on, get out and talk to some people, and then we'll think about it."

"Fine." Edmund mumbled, putting on his doublet, and taking Lucy's hand. "Let's go, then."

XXXXXXXXXX

The return from this particular adventure in Narnia was probably the most terrible for Edmund and his wife. For, they were told that they had grown to old for Narnia and must live in their own world. This realization, a suspicion Edmund had gathered since the beginning, brought both him and his wife to tears.

There was still hope, however, Aslan had said that he still lived in their world, but under a different name. Once they learned to call him by that name, perhaps they would not be nearly as depressed, or so the assumption was.

Once Edmund and Eustace returned to the little spare bedroom back in Cambridge, they simply sat there, sadly, as the water drained back into the painting, and the little image of the ship they had both become so attached to sailing away in the opposite direction.

Eustace, so very changed by his own adventure in Narnia (an adventure that would take too long to go into detail to, however, the important thing was the Eustace Clarence Scrubb no longer deserved his name), stood up and put the painting back up in its rightful place on the wall.

Edmund frowned, and then sighed. "Well, mate," he said, standing. "I'll be seeing you then."

"Wait," Eustace called out just as his cousin's hand went to the door. "Where the devil are you going?"

"Where do you think?" Edmund called out behind himself on the way out. "I'm going to go and make sure Lucy's all right."

"Do you even know where her Jack fellow lives?"

"Not the slightest idea," Edmund yelled upwards on his way down the stairs. He managed to get yelled at by his aunt, but by this time, Edmund was already out the door and on his bicycle.

Edmund peddled his bicycle through the streets, and even though every inclination of his male persona told him that it felt very wrong, he stopped to ask directions through a lady walking on the street with a two-year-old grasping her hands.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Do you know where I could find a Jack Lewis? He's an older chap that likes to walk about while reading."

The lady did not know, but pointed him in the direction of a shopkeeper who possibly would, and surely enough, the shopkeeper did know. With the directions, Edmund was once again off, not bothering to stop at traffic signs (though a policeman did yell at him for it), until he made his way to a pretty little residential street.

He watched the house numbers, a bit afraid that he would miss, until he reached the house in question. It was a good-sized brown building, with creamy shutters, and large windows. Up front, the house was sporting a garden with bushes and neatly combed hedges up front. It looked like a friendly place; and from what Lucy had told him, it was.

Parking his bicycle in the hedge, he began trotting up the front step, and awkwardly knocked on the door, only just realizing that he did not know how to introduce himself to them.

He waited, rocking back and forth on his heels, until he heard rustling from inside the house. A moment later, a woman, with rather impressively large eyes, came to the door. "Yes?" she asked, in what seemed to be an American accent.

"Erm, hullo. Is this the Lewis house?"

"Yes." The woman said, "Are you here for one of my sons?"

"No. I'm sorry, for being rude. My name's Edmund Martin. I was wondering if Lucy was in."

The woman gave a broad grin. "Oh. _You're _Edmund. Come on in. Lucy fell off the balcony today, but I'm sure she'd be just thrilled to see you."

"Thank you," Edmund said as the woman led him up the stairs, "Mrs.…."

"Lewis," she said over her shoulder. "Call me Joy."

Joy led him up the staircase and down a bright, clean hallway with a few lovely paintings and mirrors hanging up at even intervals. It was a lovely change from the Scrubb's household. At the end of the hall, Joy opened a door, and said, "Go on in."

Through the doorway, Edmund could see Lucy sitting on top of a wire-rimmed bed with a wrapped bandage on her wrist, and Jacky on her lap, talking animatedly with a balding-man who sat on an armchair along the wall. Slowly, Edmund walked into the room, hating to interrupt.

At the sight of him, Lucy stopped mid sentence. "Edmund," she said, grinning as though she hadn't seen him in ages.

She shot upwards, making the dog scurry from her legs, and onto the floor, where he glared at Edmund as though wishing to say, "How dare you take my comfortable lap away from me!"

Lucy once again flung herself into an embrace with her husband, kissing him once for good measure.

"Are you all right?" Edmund asked once they were through.

"Yes," Lucy said, "I'll miss it, though. And I've got a sprained wrist out of the whole thing, too."

"I'm sorry," Edmund said sympathetically, and just then, the man against the wall coughed.

"Oh!" Lucy shot, remembering her manners. "Uncle Jack, this is my husband, Edmund. Edmund, this is my Uncle Jack."

Edmund stared at her, unbelieving to the fact that she had just called him her husband in front of another person. It had become so private in England, the only people they said it in front of was themselves, Peter (formerly Susan as well), and the Professor.

Lucy, catching her husband's reaction, had to laugh. "It's all right, Ed." She said, "He knows."

Edmund cocked an eyebrow, "Erm, how much exactly?"

"Just about everything, I'd wager." Jack said standing, and offering his hand to Edmund.

Edmund shook his hand, still feeling a bit perplexed at the situation.

Reading his face, Lucy shrugged. "He figured it out, actually."

"How does one 'figure out' Narnia?" Edmund asked.

Jack grinned. "Everyone has a secret country somewhere, I suppose. You two, however, are lucky enough to have a real secret country."

"Uncle Jack writes in his spare time," Lucy explained. "He finds other worlds and the ideas just fascinating."

The conversation moved on from there, involving the children actually sharing their adventure with the man. It was a wonderfully refreshing experience, and it went on for quite a while. Edmund did lose track of time, and the next thing he knew, Joy was calling them down for supper, and it was time for him to return to his aunt and uncle's.

**A/N: So, I really am not a big fan of this chapter. Actually, I'm close to hating it. It was difficult to plow through and I feel like I did a bad job, considering that the Scrubbs won't really be coming in anymore (save for Eustace, later on), and Jack and Joy definitely won't. So, sorry about that. I just couldn't resist. Consider this a filler chapter. **


	9. Vow Renewal

_**/!\ - Pretty much assume a warning in front of every chapter from here on out. This chapter contains a short scene with minor mature content. Reader's discretion is advised. **_

_**Chapter Nine**_

_**Vow Renewal **_

In returning to Finchley, both Edmund and Lucy felt quite a bit different than they had before they left. This was partially because they were different themselves, never being able to return to Narnia, and then that in Narnia and in the return to England, they had made some decisions, that cost them something rather extreme. However, once more, they had grown up together. That was the important part; they stuck together.

It wasn't difficult that summer for the two to go off and be alone. Lucy would simply tell Uncle Jack that she was going off to see Edmund, and no further questions were asked, other than the polite inquiries to his well-being and health when she returned. Edmund had simply decided to hang it all as far as trying to escape his aunt's nagging. Instead, he let her harsh words fly at him, and he would bite his tongue, occasionally Eustace would stand up for him, much to his mother's surprise and distaste. Whenever Alberta was gone, doing whatever it was a Scrubb did, Edmund and Lucy would usually spend some time downstairs, visiting with Eustace, but ended up in Edmund's room somehow. With the memories of Narnia still fresh in their minds, and spoke of often, they found it was rather easy. However, the moment they boarded the train, this time together was at its ends, and they could tell. Thus, their moods were rather melancholy as they bid goodbye to their families. Edmund took far less time saying goodbye to his, aside from Eustace, whereupon the cousins and Lucy shared a quick story about Narnia before leaving. Lucy even went as far as to give her cousin-in-law a quick hug, turning Alberta rather furious, much to all three children's amusement.

Edmund and Lucy sat beside each other, watching England going by, knowing that their first month of holiday was over. There was a strange foreboding in the compartment, as they said nothing. Edmund moved his gaze to the floor. They were never going back. The only place that kept him and his wife together was suddenly wrenched away from them. Narnia was the only place they could be together. In England, it was just madness, their last few weeks in Cambridge proved that. Finchley was only going to be a new problem. The rumors had, no doubt, died down, but they would come right back again once the relationship resumed.

Oddly enough, they had to go to separate stations for their parents to pick them up. Therefore, Edmund stood at the station in London, kissed his wife goodbye for the moment, and took off out of the train, for Lucy was going to a station farther south.

James and Miriam waited for their son outside the car, still dressed in their vacation clothes. Edmund trudged up to the car, hoping that they wouldn't figure that his melancholy manner was because he didn't go along and was stuck with the Scrubbs, knowing that it might get him an unnecessary lecture about being selfish.

"How was Cambridge?" Miriam asked after the initial greetings, noticing the sad look in his face.

Edmund managed to smile, and as he spoke, the aforementioned smile slowly became a bit more real. "It wasn't that bad, actually. Eustace has become a better sort of fellow than he was before, not nearly so much of an ass…"

"Edmund, don't call your cousin an ass."

"Sorry, Dad." Edmund winced apologetically, and continued after a moment, "And, actually, Lucy was there, too, staying with her uncle."

The family moved into the car, and Miriam frowned.

"Edmund, dear," she said as the car took to the street, "I'm beginning to get a bit worried about how much time you're spending with Lucy."

"How do you mean?"

"It's only that," Miriam said, talking with her hands. "Nothing's good in excess. It seems as though all you do is spend your time with Lucy, and you need to balance everything."

"I thought you liked her."

"Of course I do!" Miriam said, as if the statement was completely uncalled for. "She's a lovely girl, and I do enjoy having her around, I'm just wondering if it might be a little too much. Imagine how alone you'll feel when it ends."

Edmund frowned. "Believe me, it won't."

"If, then. Try to find something to do that doesn't involve her. Don't shut her out completely, but don't spend every waking second with her."

"During the term," Edmund reasoned. "I spend most of my time with Dawkins."

Miriam nodded. "Well, either way, just keep an eye on how much time you spend with her."

"Oh, Miriam," James, who had been more or less oblivious to the old rumors, said, "Let him have his summer romance, goodness. He's nearly seventeen. The world will hit him soon enough."

"I just worry." Miriam said.

Edmund shrugged. "You and Dad spent the entire month together, just you two. And then when he comes home from work, or not working at home." Inwardly he put something in about how little that truly was, "That's not excessive for you. Why is it for Lucy and me?"

"We've been married eighteen years." Miriam said, "There's a bit of a difference to the relationship, dear."

To this, Edmund found himself frowning. His relationship with Lucy was different at home. Technically, they had actually been married for twenty-two years. He had been married longer than his parents had. The realization was somewhat awkward.

In the couple of weeks that passed, Edmund barely left his room. The situation was bigger than him, and he found himself sinking into something akin to depression. He was never going back to Narnia; never returning to the place where he had an ounce of worth, never returning to the place he could be with his wife, where he had adventures, and where things made sense.

Occasionally he would see Lucy out walking Jacky down the street. She usually stopped in front of his house, but then pressed on, only once or twice going to the door, only to be turned down on entrance when Miriam would say that he was ill.

The terrible truth was that he was getting so comfortable with his moods, that he did not want to see her, afraid that she would get him to see that it wasn't so bad. He wanted to be miserable, for whatever reason.

One shockingly not rainy evening, Edmund was sitting on the porch that encircled around his house, reading another stolen law book from his father as his mother did whatever it was she did to keep the garden healthy and colorful. Miriam had forced him out of the house, because it was far too nice a day to stay indoors.

He was in the middle of reading about the original establishment of the Magna Carta when he heard his mother's cheerful voice.

"Why, hello there, Lucy. What brings you across the street?"

"Hullo, Mrs. Martin." Lucy almost seemed uncharacteristically timid in her response. "I was wondering if I could talk to Edmund, actually."

Edmund looked up, to see his mother nod, and Lucy walk towards him on the stone path. He folded over the page in his book and sat it on the floor. "Lu," he said. "What's up?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Lucy said, sitting beside him. "You've been different ever since we got back."

Edmund pressed his hands together in tight fists. "Well, I must say that I am having a harder time with it than the last two times."

"So am I." Lucy bit her lip. "Which is why I need you right now. Why don't you ever talk to me?"

"I'm talking now."

"Well, this is the first time in two weeks." Lucy's voice had a rather severe edge to it, and then softened. "We can't stop now. We've been partners for years, why the change?"

Edmund couldn't make himself look at her. "Because I can't make things how they were."

Lucy sunk into thought. She had the classic look on her face, brows furrowed, lips in a miniature pout. "How they were when?"

"When we were home—well back in Narnia, the first time; before things got complicated. You know, it's funny. I would lie down in wonder sometimes, and think about what great thing I did to deserve someone like you for a wife. And the truth is, I don't. Back in Narnia…I fell into temptation so easily."

To this, Lucy swatted at his hands. She had never told him of her own temptation in Narnia, but she had seen his. She had been disappointed in him with how easily he lost himself with sight of water that turned everything it touched into gold, but she did not think badly of him because of it. She, too, had fallen; first with the spell to make herself beautiful, and then when she found herself eavesdropping on Marjorie and Anne Featherstone. He had apologized the second they got back onto the ship, and together, they had made a point of her forgiving him, which was a rather nice experience. Why was he bringing it up again?

"Stop it." Lucy finally said, "You've told me all of this before, and I'll always say the same thing. It's not a matter of deserving each other; it's a matter of being there for each other, supporting each other, and loving each other. I love you, so you need to put it out of your head that you don't deserve me because I'm not going anywhere."

Edmund smiled slightly at his wife and took her hand. "Maybe this is what Aslan means when he says that things never happen the same way twice," he mulled.

Here, Lucy shot up, her face bright. "Oh! That reminds me! I found him. Edmund, I found Aslan."

Edmund nodded, brightening himself, feeling quite a bit happier. "Really?"

"I think I always knew, really. Somewhere deep down, I think I knew. But, still." She paused, "I've begun going to church a bit more this year. Do you want to come with me on Sunday?"

Edmund readily agreed. Thus, the two sat in silence, until Miriam (who had gone in a few minutes before) announced it was time for dinner. As usual, Lucy declined the invitation to stay and stood to make her way home.

Edmund walked her across the street, and before leaving her at the door, made a somewhat shocking proposal. "Lucy, there's still a bit I want to talk to you about."

Lucy nodded. "What is it?"

"I…I…" he turned red, but pressed on. "Do you remember when you said that all I had to do was ask?"

"Yes."

"Well, I hate to be blunt, but, well…I'm asking." Edmund shuffled his feet. "If you don't want to, that's all right. I don't want to put you in a position…"

He found her hand over his mouth. "It's all right." She said, removing her hand, "Just say when."

"Meet me at midnight in the quarters next to my house? Can you get away?"

Lucy nodded, and with a somewhat nervous laugh, looking at him as she retreated to her own house, stumbling over the doorstep.

For the rest of the day, Edmund was more active than he usually was. Making sure he was clean, and he even had supper with his parents, although the conversation was still rather slow.

After a little while of small talk about the things going on in James's office, they turned to Edmund. "Has anything happened lately you want to tell us about?"

Shrugging, Edmund remained silent, lifting a roll into his mouth.

James furrowed his brow, noting the guilty look on his son's face. However, as he did not use prosecution techniques on his family, did not press him.

Miriam was duly interested, and did ask Edmund a few more questions, but her son did not give any hint as to the most recent conversation he had with Lucy, remaining sly.

Edmund lay in bed for an hour, still in this day clothes, sitting and waiting. He heard his parents shuffle up the stairs, and into their bedroom down the hall. Once a few minutes passed without a single noise from their room, Edmund kicked off his sheets and, after lacing his shoes, slowly made his way down the stairs, cringing at his heavy footfalls.

He had thought that he had his own house memorized, but found his ability to maneuver through the darkness a bit lacking. Edmund stumbled through the hallways, relying on shadows to lead him through the rooms that were so commonplace in the daylight. Perhaps his newfound clumsiness, he thought as he stubbed his toe on the corner of the wall leading to the kitchen, he owed to the fact that he really was not paying attention to this. His mind was swarming with a simple question: did Lucy really want this too? And considering this was a girl he was talking about, there was nothing simple about it.

The summer night was cool, and the moon was bright. However, its light seemed subdued by the streetlamps several meters away from him. Edmund stepped through the dewy grass, cutting through Miriam's garden, and careful not to step on his mother's vegetables or closed-up flowers.

The quarters behind the Martin household was quite a bit smaller than Lucy's house, but still stood two-stories. It was made of dark brick, and had a large circular chimney coming out the roof, and a few picture windows at regular intervals about it, always shut tight and covered with black curtains.

As he pushed on the front door, he found it locked and latched, so Edmund made his way to the back door, out what would be the kitchen for the quarters. He stepped in, noticing a glimmering spider web a few inches above his head.

It was surprisingly cool inside the building, though that was possibly because of the lack of sunlight that reached inside. A single lamp was beside an old sofa. Edmund looked about in the house before speaking. It was an open area, in one corner, and old icebox sat, the fireplace was beside it, along with the simple stove, and a sink with a pump was underneath the window. On the other end a small table with dining chairs stood, and exactly opposite that, the sofas were, and the older radio. Miriam did maintain the guesthouse, and nearly all of the old furniture they had went into it as soon as she replaced it.

"Lucy?" Edmund called, once he was done looking around. "You in here?"

Lucy stood from where she had been lying on the sofa; the left side of her hair was mussed up behind her headband, giving Edmund the idea that she had fallen asleep waiting for him. "I was afraid you weren't coming," she confessed.

"Why?"

"Well," Lucy blushed, "Maybe you changed your mind."

"Why would I change my mind? I asked you." Edmund reminded her.

Lucy shrugged. "I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything." She paused. "Can I ask you something first, though?"

"Of course," Edmund nodded. "Anything."

"Renew our vows?" Lucy flushed. "I know they're still valid and everything, till death. But, it would make me feel better."

"If you don't want to-"

"No. Nothing like that." Lucy grabbed his arm. "I just want to renew our vows, just to remind us of what we promised each other."

He stared at her, "In that case, I, Edmund Martin, take you, Lucy Rosenthal, once again, as my wedded wife." He grabbed her hand, "To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. In the glory of Aslan, God, and under…whatever crown we're living under, forever and always. I take you in all love and honor, and here is my hand to hold with you. Lucy Martin, I will love you forever. One light cannot be divided, neither shall our lives."

Lucy grinned, and bit her lip, noting the mixture of the Narnian and British vows, "And I, Lucy Rosenthal, take you, Edmund Martin, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, once again, till death do us part. In the glory of Aslan, God, and under our monarchs, whoever they may be. This is my hand," she squeezed his hand, "hold it with me. My love for you will never wane or end. From this moment on, I'm reminded that our lives our forever intertwined. We were married before, and so we shall continue to be, with these reminders. Our love is never-ending, and we will remain, forevermore, equals in our marriage. This is my wedding vow to you."

Edmund took Lucy round the waist and kissed her. In a moment more, feeling her arms come up around his neck, he nipped at her mouth. He flicked his tongue inside her mouth, and Lucy responded in a similar manner.

Their hips began to touch, and Lucy pulled back for a second, raising her eyebrow. To this, Edmund simply grinned at his wife, and lifted her upwards, one hand on the small of her back, the other to the bottom of her thighs. Their kiss continued, deepening with every step as Edmund carried Lucy up the stairs.

He continued to carry her, until they reached the room at the end of the hall, being one of the two bedrooms the quarters had to offer. Edmund didn't bother to shut the door behind him, for he was otherwise occupied. He laid her down on the covers, and slid beside her in half a second, only parting from her for a moment.

Lucy's mind had gone blank, she was not thinking of anything at that moment; all of her energy going into what she was doing. Her mouth was quite warm, and the feeling of Edmund trying to be close to her was familiar, exhilarating, and exciting at the same time. It felt like the first time all over again.

By one, the two were awake, though just barely hovering on the borderline between light sleep and a dazed awareness. Their clothes had been mindlessly tossed around the room and were strewn across the floor surrounding the mattress; they laid under the lighter sheets, cocooned in with the other, just waiting.

"Lu, I just realized something." Edmund said, squeezing her hand under the covers, and pulling her in even closer.

Lucy smiled breathlessly, putting her chin on the crook of his neck, with her nose on his collarbone, "And what was that?"

"It's not a leap year."

Lucy looked confused, but nodded. "No, I suppose it isn't."

Edmund flipped his weight over her, on his elbows and staying on her chest. "You proposed to me this time around. Women aren't supposed to propose unless it's February twenty-ninth. But, for you I think we'll make an exception."

"Well, I'd hate to break your rules." Lucy said, laughing slightly, and in a tone that was obviously her way of being flirtatious.

"Now that I think about it," Edmund ran one of his hands along her leg. "It's somewhat fun to break my rules. You might want to reconsider."

Looking up, Lucy pretended to consider, "No. I think I'll play by my own rules."

"And, what rules are those exactly?" Edmund said, hovering over her mouth, kissing her between every few words.

Lucy let out a sigh, and whispered, "I think you already know them."

XXXXXXX

In the morning, Lucy found herself on the sofa downstairs in the Martin's quarters, with a cup of tea on her knees. She was wearing Edmund's shirt, messily put on in the dark with some buttons undone.

Edmund came down the stairs wearing the khakis he wore the day before. "There's my shirt." He said, grinning. "I was wondering where it went to."

Lucy smiled. "I didn't want to wake you, so I grabbed the first thing I could."

"Looks good on you." Edmund said, grabbing the teakettle Lucy had put on the stove. "What time is it?"

"No idea." Lucy said. "I figure we'd better be getting back home, though. I think Mum and Frank will probably already be at work, but you probably should."

"Mum only gets me if I sleep in passed ten. I don't think it's that late yet." Edmund grabbed his own teacup, and sat beside his wife on the sofa. "So, where do we go from here, love?"

Lucy looked solemnly at her husband. "Forward." She said, "I'm not sure, so I don't know. I don't think we can plan anything but, we've already been through so much. What else could happen?"

Those are famous last words, indeed.

**End Part II **

**A/N: Phew! One more part to go. Hopefully updates will come sooner now, as I am officially done with my summer Honor's English homework. I really want to get done with this before school starts, so I might have to speed things up a bit. Please be tolerant, as once school begins I don't think I'll have time to write. **


	10. Bonfire

**A/N: If this chapter seems a bit...off, I'm sorry. I wrote this at, like, midnight, and couldn't get to revising until after elven on a long day. Long story short, it's probably not up to my usual standards. Please excuse that, but feel free to bring up things I might've done wrong. **

**Part Three  
><strong>**Chapter Ten  
><strong>**Bonfire **

Lucy opened the window to her dormitory, feeling the cool November breeze hit her cheeks, the smell of autumn filling the air, mixed with the city smog. She had just dressed out of her school uniform, and into her casual clothes, for although it was a Wednesday, she was defying the rules and going out that night, even later than the curfew on weekends. Throughout that entire year, Lucy seemed to develop a rather blatant disregard for the rules concerning curfew and going out (all others, however, she obeyed like the good girl she was). The good news was that for the older girls in the school, the teachers did give more leave for leaving during the week; however, the curfew rules still remained strict. For this, Lucy found that the posted staff member was only at the front gate, and by walking down to the back way, she could slip in however late she wanted to. It wasn't that she wanted to disobey the rules for the sake of disobeying them, it was only that meeting with her husband solely on weekends was steadily not becoming enough.

Every year, select groups of students in their third year and over were invited to a sort of bonfire at the end of November, hosted by unknown students from both St. Finbar's and Hendon House. The location changed every year, sometimes it was in the basement of a boarded up church, sometimes in the woods behind some of the residencies a half hour away. The nuns and other teachers always tried to keep the girls away from this exertion, though they always managed to get away somehow. That particular year, both Lucy and Alice were invited, and decided to go and have a look and see what exactly happened during this get-together of the two schools. That, and Edmund would be there.

The girls dressed in Lucy's dormitory and brushed their hair, talking quietly about their expectations, when the door opened. Marjorie entered, in braids and still in uniform. "Lucy," she said in greeting, and then quietly added in, "Alice. What are you two up to?"

"We're going to the party tonight." Lucy said. "Do you want to come with us?"

Marjorie paled and looked at her feet. "I was actually going to go with Anne. She managed to get us a car. I, erm, didn't know you were coming. I would've gone with you, Lucy, I just didn't think it was something you would do."

Lucy lowered her brow, but then continued to say cheerfully as she left the room, "Well, then, we'll see you there."

Once Lucy was gone, Marjorie turned to Alice, her cheeks pink. "I don't like this."

"Don't like what?" Alice asked coolly.

Marjorie crossed her arms. "I know that we don't get along anymore. But, don't you think it's strange? How much Lucy's begun to disregard all rules? She's so different."

"You're going. It shouldn't matter that much if she is, too." Alice said passively. "She's in love; and I think that it's worth the risk to her."

"And you don't mind that much either," Marjorie mumbled.

Alice cocked a brow. "What on earth do you mean?"

"You're in full support of all this, because that means you get to see Dawkins again."

"I have absolutely no idea what you mean. You know I think Dawkins is an ass." Alice insisted.

Marjorie looked at her feet. "I'm sorry. I just assumed. Look, even if we don't have anything else in common. Just, keep an eye on Lucy. I've got a bad feeling."

"If you think something's going to go wrong, you should be the one to keep an eye on Lucy."

"Please."

Alice, begrudgingly nodded, wondering what Marjorie knew that she wasn't sharing, and left the room.

Thanks to the curious nature of both Lucy and Alice, they both had some experience sneaking through the shadows to get out of their school. Alice had done so for the mere excitement of doing it, and Lucy, as aforementioned, had done so to see Edmund midweek. They had little trouble doing this that night. They were careful not to make noise in the main building, walking in their socks, with their shoes in their hands, until they reached the front door. Alice, who was in the front, reached the door and pushed. It wouldn't budge, and thus, she pulled, and still it wouldn't move. She turned to her friend. "It won't open. It's locked."

Lucy frowned. "Do you suppose the back door would be open?"

"Seems a terrible thing to do," Alice mulled, not answering Lucy. "I'd imagine that they'd really be sorry if there was a fire some night, and nobody would get out. How morbid! Either way, I suppose we just have to bother that and go out a window."

Lucy looked to the sides of the walls. Most of the windows were too small or too high up to go through.

"If only we could grow and shrink as we want, then we ought to make it out."

"Wait." Lucy said. "I think there's a window on the next floor that we could jump."

Alice agreeably nodded, and the two girls silently walked up the stairs again. Lucy stepped to the window and lifted the glass. The nighttime air once again blew against Lucy's cheeks, ruffling her hair and clothes. She sat up on the windowsill, and looked down. There was a green lawn underneath the window, rather than concrete, which made Lucy less apprehensive. Of course, leaving the school for a mere party didn't seem worth getting hurt, but it was the closest thing to an adventure she had had since they had come back to England from Narnia. Thus, she was willing to take it.

Fastening her shoes on her feet, Lucy held her breath and slid off the windowsill. She found her breath taken away from her completely, and her brain fuzzed. However, as the ground grew nearer, she stretched her legs out. A shock came to her feet as they hit the ground. She let her knees collapse and she rolled on the dewy grass several times, until she grew dizzy. Whereupon she laid on her back, the few streetlamps on campus obstructed the stars. She grinned remembering the last time she had to jump out a window; that had been back in Narnia right before her seventeenth birthday, and it had been a third story. That escapade, however, resulted in a broken ankle. That night, however, Lucy found herself quite unhurt from her fall.

Alice soon came tumbling in beside her. "All right?" she asked.

Lucy nodded, and thus the girls continued off campus. They wandered down the street, arm in arm. The sky was a soft lilac color with dark streaks of deep violet. The business side of the town (where both school were located) was completely deserted, save for the pub or two that remained open late into the night.

"What's the address of the place for tonight, then, Lucy?" Alice asked, reaching through the crook of Lucy's elbow to button up her own sweater against the autumn breeze.

Lifting up the piece of paper, Lucy read the address. "What's wrong?" she asked at Alice's reaction.

"It's just that…well," Alice said. "That's Mr. Dodgeson's summer home. I wonder if he knows…"

With some concern, the girls continued to walk in the street, as it steadily grew darker. Alice suddenly seemed worried, and they quickened their pace. Soon enough, they arrived in the more residential end of the town.

Eventually they arrived into a small white and bay house with a browning lawn. There was a croquet set next to the gravel pathway leading to the front door, and the windows were lit brightly from the inside.

"He's in?" Alice murmured. "Can we go in for a moment?"

Lucy nodded, and followed her friend up to the door.

Alice pushed the French doors open. "Charlie?" she called, and to her friend's quizzical glance, she corrected herself, calling out the less familiar term, "Mr. Dodgeson?

Lucy followed her friend as she trotted up the stairs, calling out for Dodgeson. Alice checked all of the brightly lit rooms, until she finally reached the one that apparently held the man who lived there.

"Mr. Dodgeson!" Alice cried, and the man stood.

"Little Alice Little!" he said in response, standing up, whereupon Alice ran towards him like a young child and he spun her around a few times in the air. Lucy coughed, feeling awkward at the rather inappropriate display.

Mr. Dodgeson sat the girl down, and looked towards Lucy, squinting. "And who are you?" he asked Lucy.

Alice, laughed, said, "Right. Lucy, this is Mr. Dodgeson. Charlie, this is my friend Lucy."

"Alice's told me a lot about you," Lucy said, feeling as though it would be dishonest to say something equivalent to, "Nice to me you." She politely accepted the handshake, but nonetheless felt somewhat awkward in the man's watch.

"Nothing bad, I hope." Mr. Dodgeson said, looking towards Alice.

Lucy shook her head. "All nice things, naturally."

"I was wondering if you knew about the get-together the students arranged for tonight, Charlie," Alice said. "It's on your back lawn, after all."

Mr. Dodgeson nodded. "Yes. I knew. I wouldn't think that someone would try and pull the wool over someone's eyes in that way. And even if they did…well, I helped arrange it. Don't worry; I shall stay out of your children's ways. You can entertain yourselves on your own. Unless you two ladies would prefer to stay here?"

Lucy tried to subtly grab Alice's hand, in hopes to inform her friend of her discomfort without insulting Mr. Dodgeson. The effort, however, did not go unnoticed.

He laughed. "Well, then. Enjoy your party, ladies. You can go out the back door, if you wish."

The bonfire was low but bright deep within the lawn. Lucy and Alice came around slowly, to find that they, indeed were the last of the guests to show up. It seemed to be quite the exclusive guest list, only about sixteen students were in attendance, among them was Edmund and Stephen, Porter**, **the boy who had accused Dawkins of stealing his pocket watch, and Marjorie beside Anne Featherstone. On the far corner of the group of students, three or four boys sat around a hookah smoking something together and going off about how they were changing sizes constantly. Marjorie, Anne Featherstone and another friend of Anne's were sitting on a blanket and the two older were whispering cynically to one another, the youngest seemed somewhat bored. The rest of the group was sitting about the fire, many separate conversations going on all at once.

The two girls approached, and quickly looked about in search of familiar and friendly faces. Edmund waved them over, and they happily walked over. Lucy sat down beside her husband, who greeted her with a peck on the cheek. Alice sat beside Lucy, and waved slightly at Dawkins when he leaned forward and sent a wave in her general direction.

"How are you tonight?" Edmund asked, grabbing Lucy's hand.

Lucy squeezed his hand, "I'm fine, and yourself?"

Edmund said that he was doing well as well, and they went forward to launch a conversation that included Dawkins and Alice. They spoke for a good full hour, only breaking the conversations to see some of the hookah smokers stand up swearing that they had won the race.

Dawkins smirked. "Somethin' tells me that that ain't just baccy."

"They're exaggerating," Alice said smoothly. "I really don't think that anything in Mr. Dodgson's hookahs should be that bad."

"Maybe they brought it themselves," Edmund suggested.

Lucy, altogether uncomfortable with conversations involving that sort of thing, redirected the conversation. "So, boys, how are the French lessons going?"

"Again with the French," Edmund muttered. "I swear, everyone seems to want me to learn the bloody language, and I have no idea why. I live in England, not France. I have no desire to go to France. And nor will I ever."

Lucy laughed slightly, "Oh, all right." She said, "Why don't we, as you're always saying, call it Pax?"

Edmund readily agreed to this, and once more, the two attempted to bring the other two into another civilized conversation, only to find that Alice and Stephen were already speaking, readily, and replying as quickly as humanly possible. None of the usual insults were thrown, and it seemed as if the others were actually enjoying the company. With this in mind, Lucy and Edmund moved to the other side of the fire, so that they were not between the two.

As they went to do this, Anne Featherstone turned to her friend, "I can't believe that he's still with her." She whispered.

Her friend shrugged. "I suppose as long as she's giving him what he wants…"

"And why do they always have to be together? It's unnatural. Just wait, sometime this evening I'll bet you his hand will go up her shirt."

"Or her skirt, whichever."

On this the two girls gave a rather cruel round of snickers, catching Lucy's eye, which made them shut up immediately and advert their eyes, telling Lucy rather plainly that she was the subject of conversation.

Marjorie screwed her courage to the sticking place. "Oh, that's unfair."

Anne glared. "What do you mean, Marjorie? You don't think that there's a reason they're together? She's poor, unattractive, and such a _child_. Why would someone like Edmund Martin be interested in her?"

"I wouldn't say she's unattractive or a child," Marjorie mumbled, nearly inaudibly. Pretending to be brave was harder than it seemed. "I'd just prefer it if you don't insult her. She's really a good person."

Anne cocked her brow, "Well, then. Why don't you go and be a good person with her?"

Marjorie looked at her feet, not quite willing to take her defense that far; she had seen what Anne's wrath could be like, and as it was, Lucy only had part of it.

In the meantime, Edmund and Lucy went on to sit with a bit of a larger group. Here, the conversation was limited for extreme small talk, none of it was all that worth recording. After perhaps an hour or so of this, Alice called Lucy over. "Lucy," she said, "Can I speak with you?"

Lucy nodded, noting a somewhat strange look in her friend's eye.

"Alone, do you mind?"

"Of course not," Lucy said, and after excusing herself from the group, began to walk to the front lawn, where the croquet set sat.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Alice, nervously blurted out, "I think I may fancy Dawkins."

Smiling, Lucy said, "Honestly, neither of you do much to pretend that you _don't_ fancy each other."

Letting out a sigh akin to a growl, Alice said, "I—I don't want to. He never hides the way that he lives, I should think. He spends the entire school year stealing money and tobacco from his classmates and then, more or less, whoring out girls from our school. I can't bear to be around him, but I really want to be." She sobered. "Lucy, how did you know that you wanted to be with Edmund? And how have you made it work all this time?"

Lucy bit her lip. She wanted to be honest with her friend, but knew she ought not to tell anyone about Narnia. Thus, she told her the most honest answer she could, drawing from her thoughts back when she and Edmund had been courting for the first time. "I just knew it. I liked who I was when I with him; everything was so easy. Yes, we had things to work out, but doing that was the easy bit. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I just wanted to be around him so badly. It literally hurt to look at him, and I couldn't breathe but I could feel the earth move. All I knew was that I loved him. When I realized that I loved him back, it was just right."

"Why are you using past tense?" Alice, who could often catch on to this sort of thing, said.

Sighing, Lucy said, "Well, the longer you're with someone, the feelings change. I still love him, and I still like who I am around him, and things are still easy, usually, but you get comfortable. I like it just as well as when I was falling for him, but the best part was that he caught me."

"What if Dawkins doesn't catch me?" Alice said, staying with the metaphor. "He isn't the sort of chap I should think is as understanding as Edmund."

"You know, Alice," Lucy said, thinking about what Edmund was like before they had gone to Narnia the first time.  
>"People change. If you fancy Dawkins the way you seem to, you should give him the chance. Maybe he's different than you think he is."<p>

Alice looked sober. "And what about me? Do you think that I can forgive myself?"

"Alice, what did you do?" Lucy gazed wide-eyed at her friend. "What did _he_ do?"

"It was a long time ago," Alice covered for herself, picking up a croquet malletand two balls. "Nothing really. Never mind it. But, thank you, Lucy. You really are a brick."

XXXXXXXXX

Meanwhile, Edmund had migrated to a group of other boys he recognized from school. They were going off together, speaking of the things boys would, how their professors were insane, what girls were attractive (Edmund didn't take part in these conversations), and on and on.

Stephen was on the other side of the group, having a heyday with the pockets of the boys who had been smoking from the hookah, and shamelessly flirting with the girls from St. Finbar's. Edmund rolled his eyes; his roommate was certainly an interesting fellow, although he was certain that Dawkins felt the same way about Edmund's monogamist relationship with Lucy.

Edmund zoned out for a moment, only to come back to seeing a brass bottle underneath his nose.

"Hey, Ed, do you want some?" A boy asked.

Edmund shook his head, "Erm, no thanks."

Cocking his eyebrow, the boy still held it out, "Seriously? You a teetotaler? Or a lightweight?"

"Neither," Edmund said. "I just don't like to drink when I don't know what it is."

The entire truth was that he never had had more to drink than a glass of wine at select holidays, but his pride made him want to lie.

"Bourbon." The boy said. "Now you know what it is."

Edmund still shook his head. "No thanks."

Stephen looked up from the random redhead he was presently trying his luck with and said; "He probably doesn't want to get tipsy around his girlfriend."

The boy cocked his brow. "Really? You let a girl have that much power over you? She must be a pretty good _kisser_."

"Don't talk about her." Edmund warned, giving a look that very obviously was a warning.

"Fine," the boy said said, still offering the bottle to him. "You really need to relax. Are you sure you don't want any? You know what it is. Unless you were lying, and you really are a teetotaler."

Caught in his lie, and having a bit of an antipathy for those people, Edmund mumbled, "Fine."

The bourbon tasted bitter in his mouth, and burned as it went down his throat. However, there was a striking taste to it, which allowed the curiosity to compel him to take another sip.

XXXX

Lucy and Alice slowly returned to the party. By this time, night had completely covered the lawn; the only lights came from the fire and from Mr. Dodgeson's windows. In returning to the fireside, the girls found both Edmund and Dawkins (who had shoved the redhead off him as soon as Alice came into eyeshot) in a crowd of boys, nearly all of the males present were in that huddle, save for three, two of which were sitting beside Anne Featherstone and her friend. Rather than interrupt them, and knowing better than to interrupt during times when males were in a group, Lucy sat down, and Alice used the croquet things to play a game with herself, without hoops, and only with two balls, entertaining herself.

Lucy gazed unblinkingly at the fire, hearing the boys' conversation only halfway, it was rowdy, loud, and slurred, just as boys are when they gather. Suddenly, she saw someone come up next to her_. _It was a large boy; nearly twice Edmund's size both horizontally and vertically. Lucy's first thought was that he looked rather like an ox.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked.

Lucy shrugged, "If you like."

She knew who this was; it was Piers Porter, a somewhat mulish fellow who seemed to like to get Edmund and Dawkins in trouble. Although she had never spoken to him personally, from what she heard and just now, he did seem rather beastly.

He frowned at her. "Why so cold? I don't think we've met before. I'm Piers Porter."

"Lucy Rosenthal." Lucy said, "And I didn't think I was being cold."

Porter looked her over quickly. "Lucy Rosenthal…you're Edmund Martin's girl, aren't you?"

Nodding, Lucy said, "Yes."

"Well, he's a lucky guy."

Lucy looked away, looking away slightly, not exactly knowing how to reply to the fairly inappropriate comment.

"Sorry," Porter said, reading her body language. "I didn't mean to offend you or nothing. Just stating my opinion."

"Well," Lucy said, "please…don't say those opinions."

"I'll try, and in that case, can't we be friends?"

Lucy shook her head in amusement, but nonetheless said, "Yes. I suppose we can."

In the next moment, Edmund seemed to appear out of nowhere, suddenly beside Lucy. He looked angry, although she had no idea why. Suddenly, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. "Come on, we need to go."

Lucy frowned, but went with her husband, looking apologetically to Porter for her rather rude exit. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, taking her arm back.

"I don't want you talking with him. Other boys in general. I'd rather if you didn't."

Lucy crossed her arms at her chest. "So, if it isn't you, Stephen, Peter, or someone otherwise approved by you, I can't talk to them?"

Nodding, Edmund said, "Well, yes. That's exactly it."

"I have to say, jealousy really makes you look-" she faded, smelling something his breath. Her heart stopped for half a moment, her stomach lurched, and an old injury in her arm from when it at once been twisted backwards began to throb.

"Whiskey." She whispered, and then grew louder with anger. "Edmund, you were drinking!"

Edmund shrugged as if innocent. "Maybe a pint, if even that much. And it was bourbon, not whiskey. Lucy, relax, I'm not even tipsy, much less drunk."

"Well, you're definitely not acting normally." Lucy seethed. "You know how I feel about drinking. Especially hard alcohol. Whiskey makes me want to vomit. Do I really have to explain all this to you?"

"Of course not," Edmund countered. "I know what you've been through. But I'm not your father."

"That's not the point!"

"What is the point, then?"

"The point is that it bothers me!" Lucy stamped. "And if you can't respect that…"

"Who said I'm not respecting you?"

Lucy sighed. "You didn't have to say anything at all."

"You're being dramatic, dear." Edmund rolled his eyes, wondering if the little bit of bourbon he did have took away some of his tact.

"Dramatic?" Lucy gained volume as she continued, getting glances from others around the fire. "You go and try to not be 'dramatic' after eight years of bruises, bloodied lips, and fractures from your own father!"

With this, Lucy turned on her heels and walked away. Edmund growled under his breath, and Stephen approached him.

Dawkins leaned on Edmund's shoulder with his elbow and said, "Y'know you messed up, right, mate?"

**A/N: So, now we work with the last part of this story, and only a few weeks left of summer. Thus, the next few chapters will probably be fairly fast-paced. I want this story done by the time school starts. Let's see if I can do it…**


	11. Caught

**Chapter Eleven**  
><strong>Caught <strong>

While Edmund knew his wife was not one to hold grudges, he was also aware that it would not be nearly as simple as going up to her, admitting that he had not been thinking about her feelings (although, and he was planning to leave this out, what man doesn't do something in a moment of pressure because he is reminded that it might hurt his wife's _feelings_?). The fact that they did wait until Saturday again that week to see one another, gave both of them time to sit and think about it, and he hoped that time allotted would allow Lucy the chance to simmer down, rather than boil up. Frankly, Edmund still didn't see it as though he did anything wrong.

Because of the select group of boy from the House who did attend, nobody ratted them out to the Headmaster for leaving school grounds at profane hours of the night. The boys who had been smoking from the hookah did give away their own cover whilst sneaking onto the grounds, yelling and hollering about who knew what. Edmund and Dawkins, however, made it there and back with no repercussions, aside from a full-day's absence from classes in need to sleep off the late night previous.

By the time Saturday came around, Edmund was ready to humble down, although he still did not think that it was such a big deal, he was willing to try and see things through Lucy's eye. He waited in his usual place beside the gate to St. Finbar's, leaning against the pillar. Scores of girls walked out, and a few of them looked over to Edmund and whispered and giggled to each other.

"What are they bloody on about?" he thought to himself.

Eventually, Lucy came out, rubbing her hands together in the cold autumn breeze. She looked up, and catching sight of her husband, walked towards him. "Hullo," she said, wrapping her sweater tighter around herself.

"Are you still angry with me?" Edmund asked, grimacing.

Lucy shook her head. "No. A bit upset, but not angry."

"If it's any consolation, it tastes bloody awful. Like…bleach with a teaspoon of molasses." Edmund said, drawing the description from the top of his head.

Crossing her arms at her chest, Lucy asked, "Do you understand why I feel this way about the whole issue?"

"I think I'm getting there."

"Well, I'll meet you halfway."

Edmund smiled. Meeting each other halfway was part of the main building blocks of his marriage to Lucy in Narnia. Some marriages are good at the divide and conquer technique; some put up fights but always ends up doing what one of the two wants entirely; some tag-team everything. Edmund and Lucy met each other halfway; when one of them wanted something that the other didn't, they'd compromise. After an argument, they would both admit that they were wrong, and yet right. It was something they had been doing for more than twenty years, and thus, it came easily to them.

Lucy continued, "I wish I hadn't yelled at you, but it sends me back. The smell of it…it literally hurts. I can still feel it, and I can still hear him raging. I don't want to try to control you, but this is a part of me. I can't stand it."

Edmund took her wrists, and pulled her towards him. He held her in a tight embrace. Once they broke the embrace he wiped her tears of her cheeks. "Hey, you didn't let me talk about this. I'm sorry that I drank it, and that I didn't see how it affects you. You had every right to yell, and I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry. For everything. For what I did, for what I said."

Nodding contemplatively, Lucy said, "All right, then. I'll forgive you under one condition."

Edmund's eyes dropped, not knowing where she was going with this. "All right."

"Stop apologizing for everything!" Lucy laughed. "I swear, it's like you look out for opportunities to apologize."

Seeing an opportunity, Edmund grimaced, and said in an overly dramatic tone, "Oh, Lucy, by the way, I tripped on a stair coming down from my dormitory. I'm sorry. I've failed you."

Lucy swatted at his chest, and muttered, "Cheeky."

For the rest of the day, the two walked through the streets hand-in-hand, pointing out things in shops as they passed them, and walking about in the nearby park. Laughing about how quickly forgiveness came to them, in the way that it tends to come to happily married people.

The remainder of autumn passed in the way it always did, Edmund and Lucy meeting together every Saturday and Sunday, and occasionally snuck off in the middle of the week to see one another. Lucy saw the inside of his dormitory a few times, providing Dawkins was away in that shack of his. Eventually, all the leaves fell from the trees, covering all of the brittle grass completely. In short time, the autumn's gold and red swiftly turned to silver and white. Winter approached all too quickly, Lucy thought as she buttoned up her brown winter coat. It was not nearly so nice as the one Miriam Martin had bought for her years ago, but it kept her warm enough, providing the wind wasn't too brisk and the snow wasn't too deep.

Marjorie was in the process of packing away her clothes for Christmas holiday, and had her back momentarily turned away from her roommate, and was presently humming a verse of _God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen _absentmindedly to herself.

"Are you doing anything exciting over holidays?" Lucy asked, fixing her scarf and sitting on her trunk.

Marjorie turned about and said, "I'll be making nice with cousins and family, mostly. We're going back to Wales and so I'll have to bear through the family."

"Don't you get along?"

"I'm not that sure," Marjorie said, closing her trunk. "We don't really go to Wales that often to see the family. Once every two or three years, really. It's somewhat annoying, but everyone's so outgoing on that side of the family, so I'm somewhat left out."

Sympathetically, Lucy said, "You never know, maybe you'll make friends with your cousins."

"Do you have cousins, Lu?"

"Yes, quite a few of them," she said, remembering what Uncle Jack had told her about the family in the previous summer. "I've never met most of them, though."

"Oh, right," Marjorie said, blushing. Remembering what Lucy had told her about Helen and herself being estranged from the family. "I'm so sorry."

"It's all right. I can't miss people I've never met, right?"

XXXXX

As always, the return to Finchley for holidays was a bit of an adjustment. No longer having piles of schoolwork in front of them every night, having the ability to stay up and wake up later than they otherwise could, and having household chores. For Lucy, however, it was more complicated than these regular things. She still was not used to Frank living at the house. With two incomes in the house (Helen, for whatever reason, had decided to keep her job), they had quite a bit more money than they had previously had. The dishes had been replaced, and now they had a wireless themselves. Helen had also taken the liberty to rearrange the furniture and repair the wall, so the bullet hole no longer glared at them. Lucy had felt like she was stepping into a brand new house when she had come home.

In the wintertime, her stepfather didn't work as frequently, and so he was home more often than Lucy remembered. They did try to talk and make friends with each other, but Lucy found it difficult as he did not know how to act around children, and Frank found it difficult for the same reason. Because of this, while Helen was working, Frank would often busy himself with some chores or otherwise read or go out to pubs in the city. Lucy would do her usual chores from the years past and play with Jacky, and otherwise she was across the street.

On Christmas Eve, Lucy was filling up the woodstove when Frank came down the hall with his coat and hat on. "I'm going to grab lunch with your mother." He announced, "Would you like to come, Lucy?"

Lucy began to nod, but then shook her head. "No, thank you. I think I'll stay and make sure the stove doesn't burn down the house."

Frank grunted, and called on his way out the door, "I'll see if I can, erm, bring you back some lunch."

Warming her hands over the stove, Lucy shivered. The little house got rather cold in December, she found every year. And, still, every year it seemed to get colder. She looked through the window as she did this, and saw the blanket of white covering the ground and rooftops of the houses.

Jacky barked loudly, breaking Lucy from her thoughts, to find the dog sitting expectantly in front of the door, his tail wagging every once in a while.

"You just went out," Lucy mumbled, as she, nonetheless, grabbed her own coat, scarf, and galoshes to accompany him out of doors.

Across the street, Edmund just happened to have stepped out of doors a few minutes before Lucy. It was such a lovely day, and not to mention that his rather uppity Grandmother Martin was over for Christmas and pressing him to tell her about all of his plans for the future. The fact that he didn't seem to know for sure that he was going to mimic his father's footsteps in going to University and becoming a lawyer was rather disturbing to her. The constant babble of how James was her favorite child, and certainly the most put together of all five of them got rather dry to not only Edmund, but to Miriam and James as well. Therefore, when Grandmother Martin began talking, once again, how much Edmund was like his father, and how he would go through law school swimmingly sent him outside almost immediately.

He heard Jacky across the street before the doors even opened, and after extinguishing his cigarette in the snow, made his way across the street.

He waited for a few minutes; leaning against the wall of Lucy's house to see if she would noticed him there. No such luck, she was facing the opposite direction. He looked at her, in a big brown coat and old blue scarf. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and she blew on her hands. He smiled and slowly came up behind her.

"Can I help you with that?"

Lucy jumped two feet in the air. "Edmund!" she yelped, "Why must you always sneak up on me?"

Edmund grinned cheekily. Or, perhaps that was simply the cold making his cheeks rather rosy. "Your hands look cold," he said, ignoring his wife's question.

"They're freezing." Lucy said, contradicting what she said, and suddenly threw a snowball at his face.

Honestly not expecting the snowball, Edmund lost equilibrium, and fell backwards over his heels. He landed in half a meter of snow, almost entirely covered in the white.

Laughing, Lucy offered her hand to him, "Oh, I didn't mean to do that."

Edmund sat up, grabbed her hand, and yanked her down to the ground as well. Lucy let out a rather high-pitched scream as she fell onto his stomach. She smiled at him, and began to scramble upwards again.

"Ugh, darling, that really hurts." Edmund said, gesturing to her elbow as it dug into his stomach.

"I'm sorry," she said, grinning. "Should I kiss it better?"

After saying this, Lucy crouched forward and kissed him, favoring his lower lip, talking it with her as she pulled back. "All better?" she asked, feeling his hand sneak up her thigh.

"Actually, the pain is a bit lower…"

Lucy rolled her eyes and stood up. Helping her husband to his feet, she said, "Come on let's go in, and get you dry, and maybe something hot to drink."

Edmund took her hand and walked her up the steps. As Lucy opened the door, Jacky darted in the house, and soon jumped onto the sofa, rolling up into a little ball, as though planning on a nice long nap.

Lucy scurried through the doorway, brushing off her coat, shaking the snow out of her hair, and kicking off her goulashes. Instantly after, she headed for the kitchen. "Will tea be all right?"

Edmund watched her pump the water out of her old-fashioned faucet, and into a kettle. He threw his hat and coat on the sofa, as the pegs next to the door were all already taken. As Lucy put the kettle on the stove, he wrapped his arms around her middle. "I don't think we need tea to keep us warm."

Lucy slowly turned towards him, staying close. "Really?" she said, looking straight up to him.

"Really." Edmund, somewhat annoyed with the playing around, lifted her above his hips, and proceeded to climb the stairs, running his lips on her neck.

"You know what you want, don't you?" Lucy muttered, coming down from his hips, and grabbing his collar led him further into her room.

Lucy wanted to giggle when she felt Edmund's hands pulling at the buttons of her sweater and sliding it off her arms. They kissed again, and then parted, with their lips still close, breathing in each other's hot air. His fingers moved back over the buttons of her blouse, taking it to the floor. Lucy felt a wave of exhilaration at his touch to her bare skin.

He lifted her onto the mattress, and stepped away for a second, eying her as she appeared, with only her skirt and brassiere on her little frame. She knelt on the covers and pulled him in towards her.

She was breathing hard, and laughing as she pulled him down next to her, and collapsed over his sitting form, hanging around his mouth, her hands flitting over the buttons on his shirt, so that she could push the material off his chest. Once she did, she started weighing him down over his chest.

"I don't think so," Edmund said, and flipped them over, so that she on her back directly under him.

They gasped together, and kissed. They were getting comfortable, when they heard a voice outside Lucy's door. "What the hell is going on here?"

They looked up, still with Edmund over Lucy, and still with Lucy's hands on his chest and neck. Frank stood there, with a baffled and angry look on his face.

"For the love of God," Frank said to Edmund, "Get off of her."

Edmund rose, a bit too slowly for Frank's liking as evidence from his stony glare, and just sat on the mattress next to Lucy.

"Get out."

Edmund opened his mouth, obviously to protest Lucy would tell from his expression. She knew him.

"Edmund," Lucy said softly. "It's all right. You'd better go."

Her husband blinked at her. "Are you certain?"

Lucy nodded. "I think I'll have to talk to my stepfather alone. I'll be fine, Ed."

His mouth a thin line, Edmund said, pained, "All right. But, I'm right across the street if you need me." He then proceeded to pick up his own shirt off the floor and put it on—still much too slowly—before riling Frank up all the more by kissing his wife good-bye, and walking out the door.

Lucy watched him go; she had a feeling she knew what he had been trying to do. He was trying to show Frank that he wasn't going to run away; that he was there for the long haul; that he cared about Lucy. Frankly, it was admirable, although the little hole in the pit of her stomach still ached on the fact that her own husband had to leave the house, simply because they were caught acting like married people. It wasn't supposed to be like that.

"Heh," Lucy said, looking at the floor, "You're home early."

Frank glared, but then cleared his throat, "Well, Lucy, erm…you have some explaining to do," the fatherly phrase sounded odd on Frank's lips, in both of their ears. "So, well, put your shirt back on, and meet me downstairs in five minutes."

Lucy nodded briskly and waited for her stepfather to leave to button up her shirt once again, straighten her skirt and run a comb through her hair, all the while heat prickling inside of her. None of it was right. She was a married woman; she shouldn't feel so much like a child; she had done nothing wrong, she shouldn't feel like a sinner on Judgment Day.

She made her way down the stairs, and shot a look out the window to the Martin's house, across the street. Somehow, she had a feeling Edmund was sitting on his sofa, and staring out the window, just as upset as she was.

Frank said nothing when Lucy finally came downstairs; and so she said nothing. They just sat there in freezing silence, before Lucy adjusted her sweater nervously. Frank's eyes were glued on the floor, and Lucy slumped in the armchair, waiting for something to happen.

Finally, Frank looked up to his stepdaughter and spoke to her for the first time since she had come downstairs. "All right, Lucy, here's my situation. I knew when I married your mother that I was going to have to accept some responsibilities over you. I didn't know what would happen; I never really had a family of my own, and I figured you were mostly raised already, so I wouldn't have much to worry about. To be completely honest, I have no idea what I'm doing. I suppose I ought to ask you why and what he said to you."

Lucy looked up at her stepfather. "Frank," she said. "I can't explain myself, because there's nothing to explain that I can tell you. I know it doesn't look like it, but Edmund and I haven't done anything wrong. You have to trust me."

"You're talking about trust? Lucy, I leave the house for twenty minutes and in that time, the boy from across the street manages to enter the house and take off your clothes. Do you have any idea what could've happened?"

"Frank; I know where you're coming from. Mum's never let me forget that she was seventeen when I was born. But, my case is different—"

"How?" Frank asked plainly.

Lucy shrunk a little. She was unused to the truth when it came to this, but she finally sighed and decided to try. Slowly, she spoke. "We knew no one would give us permission; so we read the rites ourselves and gave our vows," and then inwardly, she put in, "again," for good measure.

"That's not the way it works, Lucy." Frank said stiffly.

"Says who?" Lucy said, not angrily, for she found that on these queer grounds; knowing that Frank was so unsure about his role in the matter made it easier to stay level-headed. "If the judge had told you and Mum that you couldn't get married legally, you would have still called yourselves man and wife, wouldn't you have? The legalities aren't that important; marriage through law isn't the way it's meant to be—not always. Marriage is more of a matter of the heart than of the law."

"And," Frank swallowed, very uneasily, "you have already…"

Lucy nodded. "Yes."

Here, Frank frowned, and eventually murmured, "And you two couldn't have waited until you could have made it legal for good measure anyway?"

"Believe me," Lucy said after a moment. "We waited longer than you realize."

XXXXXX

Miriam Martin, apparently, made an exceptional Christmas Eve dinner. Usually, by the time dinner rolled around on the holiday (after the church service), Edmund was so ravenous that he inhaled the food, barely tasting it. That year, however, he could barely stomach the turkey. He hadn't heard from Lucy since earlier that day, when Frank had walked in on him. It embarrassed him that he had to leave; he did have a right to stay, as far as he thought. He wanted to know what his wife's stepfather said to her, and he wanted to make it very clear that he was not going anywhere.

His parents' conversation with Grandmother Martin seemed like only a distant humming, and thus he ignored it, picking at his food. He felt a tug at his brain, and it was driving him mad. Why did he feel guilty? He had done nothing wrong; Lucy was his wife. And yet, they were caught red-handed in a situation that made no sense to anyone but him and Lucy. It hadn't seemed as though it mattered before, that no one else understood. Now, he could tell that some kind of punishment was in store, one that neither he nor Lucy deserved, as though they hadn't already been through enough.

"Edmund," Miriam's voice broke Edmund from his trance.

"What?" Edmund snapped to attention.

"Answer your grandmother's question, Ed." Miriam prompted.

"Erm," Edmund muttered. "Of course…yes?"

James gave out a great laugh, "Your favorite Christmastime hymn is 'yes?' I'd love you to sing a note or so of that one."

"I suppose I wasn't listening." Edmund mumbled.

He continued the evening in a trancelike state as before, only this time he was not pressed for more questions. His mind was stuck on Lucy, and he could not wait to run up to his bed and fall asleep, much like young children. Except for, rather than waiting for Father Christmas to come along, he was waiting for the sun to rise again so that he could run across the street and check in on his wife.

XXXXXX

Lucy tossed in her bed that night, Frank hadn't told Helen about what he had seen, at least not in front of her, and perhaps that was playing with her conscious, for as soon as she closed her eyes, so it seemed, she was taken up into a fitful nightmare.

She was back in her room, exactly as it was earlier that day. Edmund was on top of her, she could still feel the warmth of him, as she, within the dream, proceeded to go on as they had earlier. However, this time, the voice interrupting was not the familiar and nervous voice of Frank; it was the powerful, slurred, angry voice of her father.

Within the dream, Lucy shot out from under Edmund, who moved himself in front of her, so as to guard her from the raving man. It didn't work, and in the next moment, Mr. Rosenthal threw him across the room, and almost seemed to evaporate to be over there in a second, and began hitting him over and over again.

"Stop it!" Lucy cried, "You're hurting him!"

She also seemed to evaporate to that part of the room, as she kicked and hit the man repeatedly, trying with all her might to take down the big figure; he was just as large as she remembered him from her young childhood. With a painful slash to her stomach, Lucy found herself on the floor.

She began panting, "It was a dream," she cooed to herself, "Just a dream."

Staring at the floor, she found herself looking at two oversized work boots, and, with terror, she looked up, still seeing her dead father standing in front of her.

"Jus' like your muther," he sneered, "Bloody slut. Givin' euverything to whatever boy asks fer it."

Lucy shook her head, "No! You don't understand!"

She would have continued to object, but soon found herself looking down the barrel of a handgun. Her father cocked the weapon.

"Don't, please!" Lucy begged.

With an earth-shattering explosion, Lucy shot upwards in bed, screaming at the top of her lungs. Panting heavily, she hugged her knees to her chest like a small child. She jumped three feet in the air as the wind howled against the side of the house. Outside the window was complete white, and she shivered, feeling the snowstorm in her bones.

Breathing slowly, Lucy made a way to remind herself that her father was dead; she was still alive; her stepfather had reacted in a way much, much, better to what he saw than anyone else. However, talking sense was never Lucy's strong point, and she still found herself shaking.

"Jacky," she whimpered, finding her dog sitting expectantly by her side, most likely having woken up with her screams.

Jacky put his little head on her knee and cried along with her. She scooped him into her lap, and held the furry creature to her. He sniffed her jaw line and chin, and trying to calm his master down. Lucy just held the spaniel in her arms, rocking back and forth, trying to get the terrible dream out of her head.

**A/N: And so the drama continues. You should buckle your seatbelt; it only gets more fast-paced from here. Please leave a review before you go, for they make me happy. **


	12. Interrogation and Defiance

**A/N: This short chapter is mostly dialogue. Sorry about that, but I couldn't think of any other way to do it. **

**Chapter Twelve  
>I<strong>**nterrogation and Defiance**

Edmund sat up groggily in bed. Thanks to the woodstove directly above his bedroom, he was already warm, although the window showed a thick crust of white telling him he had slept through a rather large snowstorm. He rubbed his eyes and stood. Sliding into a robe and slippers, he opened the door and made his way down the stairs.

Miriam was in the kitchen with Grandmother Martin, who was chattering about something concerning the cookware. James was in his office, naturally. Realizing that everyone else was otherwise occupied, Edmund realized that he could probably sneak out and across the road to see Lucy. They had left off on such a bad note the night before; he was worried, particularly about what Frank had said to her.

He slowly started to ascend the stairs, and made it about halfway back to his room.

"Edmund!"

Edmund sighed slowly, thinking about his foiled plans. Why was it that suddenly, when he really needed to sneak off, his mother noticed? Before, when he had done it solely for the sake of wanting to, she had not batted an eye. Now she suddenly had a heightened sense of hearing. Brilliant.

"What, Mum?" he asked.

"Come down, dear, and have breakfast," Grandmother Martin said.

Edmund reluctantly stepped down the stairs and plastered a groggy grin on his face. "Happy Christmas."

After a rather big breakfast of eggs, sausage, and toast with tea to down it all with, the Martins all gathered around their big evergreen tree, decorated with lights and shining ornaments. Grandmother opened her brightly covered package from her son, daughter-in-law, and grandson first. A mink stole, so it appeared.

"Why me!" Grandmother Martin said. "Jimmy, this must have cost—well, see how well my boy is doing! And Miriam, did you pick it out? It's lovely."

Edmund zoned out while his mother and grandmother talked about that sort of thing, and still through when Miriam opened her three gifts (a new tea set from Grandmother Martin, a peal necklace from James, and then a small garden trinket from Edmund, who was limited to buying from his pocket money). His attention came a bit back when his father opened his, (a tie from his mother, flavored tobacco for a pipe from his wife, and a decorated letter opener from his son).

Then the three gifts were given to Edmund and, not really wanting to go through this, he tore open the red paper. His parents got him something he didn't really see, and same for his grandmother. His mind was elsewhere. "Wow, thanks!" he said, trying to make it seem believable, although he barely looked at the items. "This is amazing."

James and Miriam looked doubtfully at their son, but said nothing in the presence of Grandmother Martin, who looked pleased as day.

After a quick break to dress and wash their faces and teeth, the four of them then proceeded to play a quick game of charades, which Edmund and his grandmother lost rather pathetically to. The second it was over, Edmund decided he had stayed around home quite enough.

"Well," Edmund stood. "This is fun. I have to go across the street now."

His parents coughed and spluttered, and Grandmother Martin snapped her fingers. "Sit," she insisted, and as she spoke, Miriam winced a bit.

Edmund looked towards James, hoping that he'd be more sympathetic, however, his father wasn't.

"You're not going today." He said.

Miriam nodded. "Today's a day for family. You don't have to see Lucy every single day."

Looking at the floor, Edmund shuffled his feet, and mumbled his lie. "I just wanted to wish her a happy Christmas. It'll only take two minutes. I have to go"

James was now on his feet. "You're lying," he said, suddenly suspicious.

"No I'm not." Edmund blinked, putting his chin up. How on earth could his father detect when he was lying? The man was scarcely ever around! Perhaps it had something to do with being a lawyer.

Narrowing his eyes, James looked at his wife, and ticked his head towards their son. At her husband's cue, Miriam stood and approached her son, "Did you and Lucy have a fight?"

"No." Edmund shook his head. "Would I be wanting to go over if we had?"

Grandmother Martin spoke, "Boys your age shouldn't be goggling about at girls, either way. Why, I never allowed James to see anyone in secondary school, and look at how well he turned out."

James rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Mum, you didn't allow me to see anyone my whole life. You learned about the kind of relationship I had with Miriam after we were already engaged. And you were in denial until the wedding."

"This seems like a conversation for a mother, son, and daughter-in-law," Edmund said, putting a hand on the doorknob. "I'll leave you to it."

"Stay." James said, and then using a voice that Edmund scarcely ever heard. "Did you go over to see Lucy yesterday?"

"Yes." Edmund looked around the room, feeling somewhat stressed all of a sudden.

"Was Helen home?"

"Dad," Edmund said slowly, "Are you interrogating me?"

"Answer the question, Edmund."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"So, the answer's no, then?" James muttered. "Why'd you go over?"

"I don't think I should have to answer these things."

"Too bad. You're answering them." James reached for his son's shoulder and plopped him down in a kitchen chair. "Why did you go over?"

"I wanted to see Lucy."

"They have a telephone. You couldn't have called her over here? I'm sure your grandmother would love to meet your girlfriend."

"Didn't think about it."

"And why was that?"

"I wanted to see her."

"So, you just saw her yesterday?" James paced in front of him.

"Yes."

"Why do you want to see her again today?"

Edmund cocked his brow, "Because I love her."

"You've got another motive." James leaned in, inspecting his son's face.

"No, I don't."

"Just wanting to see her isn't as important. You said you _had_ to. There's something going else going on." James looked straight to his son's eye.

Edmund slumped in the chair, crossing his arms.

James turned away, and went to Miriam, whispered something into her ear, and left the room, leaving his wife to step forward.

"Ed, you can tell us," she said, taking an overly sympathetic tone. His parents had done this method every time he misbehaved growing up, where James would scold and Miriam would sympathize, and usually got a confession out of him. Not this time.

"You should just make him stay home," Grandmother Martin said. "Boys really should just obey their parents. None of this nonsense."

Miriam shut her eyes and sighed. Edmund felt rather bad for his mother. Grandmother Martin tended to be overly critical of Miriam when it came to raising him. This was the only area that she criticized James' family, but it was the one area that Miriam was proud of (never mind the fact that Edmund's biggest attitude adjustment happened when he was gone from home). She knew that many homemakers were better than she was; she at least told herself that her son had turned out well, and took pride in that.

James came back into the room, holding a long cigarette and his rarely used pipe. He grabbed his new container of tobacco and put it on the dining room table, and put a pinch into the pipe. "Do you have a match?" he asked his son.

Edmund reluctantly handed over the small matchbook he kept in his pocket to his father.

"Thanks." He said, lighting up. "Have you had a smoke yet today, Ed?"

"Seriously?" Edmund asked, shocked. "You're going to use smoking to get me to talk? That's inhuman."

"Start talking and you can get rid of those jitters in your hands. I'm sure they must be awfully annoying."

Edmund growled softly, finding that he was, indeed twitching. "What do you want to know?"

"Your mother saw you leaving the house a few short minutes after Frank Gargery came home. Why?"

"He doesn't want me home alone with his stepdaughter?"

James nodded. "How old is Lucy Rosenthal?"

"Fifteen."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"And how long have you and Miss Rosenthal been seeing each other?"

"A few years."

"How many years?"

"Officially or unofficially?"

"And what were you doing to get kicked out of the Gargery house?"

"Talking with Lucy."

"Talking. Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"A seventeen year old boy alone with his girlfriend and he simply talks with her? Even though there have been several previous mentioning of people seeing you two going at it?"

Grandmother Martin interrupted, "Jimmy! That's not a suitable thing to talk about."

James ignored his mother. "Well?"

"All right!" Edmund said, the smell of the secondhand smoke getting to him. "We were snogging. Happy?"

"That's it?" James said, having a strange unsure air in his eyes.

"Why?" Edmund sat up straighter.

"Frank might have stopped by my office shortly afterward."

"What?"

"Do you want to be honest now, Ed?" James said.

Edmund bit his lip, and noticed his hands twitch again. "You're bluffing," he said. "If you knew you wouldn't be interrogating me, I'd already be dead."

"You sure about that?"

"Absolutely."

XxxxxxX

Lucy sat on the old armchair with Jacky standing on his hind legs in front of her. His paws were on her knees, and he was whining, attempting to get at the piece of the gingerbread his master was currently nibbling. The family had already opened their gifts from each other. Lucy kept hers tucked underneath her arm: a hardcover copy of _King Arthur. _There was a stain across the cover that told her it was used, and some of the pages were torn, but it hardly mattered. She would finally get to read it over again.

Most of the morning was sufficiently awkward for Lucy and her stepfather. They didn't even make eye contact, and were mostly quiet. Helen saw the oddness between her daughter and husband, but had enough tact not to say anything about it.

"Down, Jacky." Lucy commanded, unsuccessfully, as the dog seemed to take that as an invitation to jump up onto her lap. Just as he did so, she crammed the last bit of gingerbread through her mouth, and so the dog's valiant attempt for a special treat went for naught.

"Sorry," she said, swearing the dog was almost glaring at her, "I'll get you a biscuit later."

Shaking her head, Lucy looked towards her mother; Helen was busying herself in the kitchen, listening to a drama story on the two-way Frank had gotten as a hand-me-down from another cabby-friend of his, completely oblivious to the world, as she was when she got into a story. It was interesting seeing her mother at home. It didn't even cross Lucy's mind that her mother could cook at all. It all seemed out of place to her.

She shooed her dog from her knees, and he collapsed beside her (still on the furniture). She opened the book and set to reading it over again, rather excited. She had not read the story in years, and she was looking forward to reading it once more.

She was only a few pages in, still in the exposition about the history of Camelot, when she heard her stepfather's voice.

"Lucy? We need to talk," he said.

Lucy nodded, and made a mental note that she was at the end of page fifteen, and looked up, shutting the book. "Yeah?"

"Do you want to step outside?" Frank asked, eyes flitting over to his wife, who had only just gasped in finding out whatever secret was just revealed on her show.

Standing, Lucy put on her coat and scarf, and stood on the steps, as her stepfather followed her, standing just outside the doorway.

"You should really tell your mother about what I saw yesterday." He said, still feeling rather awkward. Lucy remained silent, and thus Frank continued. "I won't tell her, but I want you to. She ought to know."

Lucy rocked back and forth on her feet.

"And then," Frank sighed, "I'm not trying to be a villain here, but I don't want you to see Edmund anymore."

"What?" Lucy gasped. "No!"

"Lucy, you're fifteen." Frank tried to be delicate, "You don't understand. You're far too young to be in that sort of relationship. Mentally you aren't ready, and at your age, it makes you seem very promiscuous. Do you want people to see you like that?"

"People already do. Frank, I don't really care what people think." Here, Lucy stuck out her chin, "And there's nothing you can say to make me stop seeing Edmund."

"I'm not going to allow it."

Lucy stared. She knew her stepfather was only trying to do what he thought was right, but that didn't make her any less angry. He wouldn't, and couldn't, stand between her and her husband.

She found a tightness building in her chest, and inhaled deeply, before finally saying, in a voice low and completely honest. "Try and stop me."


	13. Examination

**Chapter Thirteen  
><strong>**Examination **

The return to school for the new term had never been such a relief for Lucy. The past weeks had been full of uncomfortable mealtimes and many arguments between her and her stepfather. Frank continually attempted to limit Lucy to the house, and tried to get her to stop seeing Edmund, a futile attempt, for Lucy had already made it very clear where she stood.

Somehow, Helen still did not seem to know a thing about it. For this, Lucy was thankful for the most part. She watched her mother's mannerisms from every day onward from Christmas. Nothing seemed to change. Perhaps it was unnecessary guilt, but a part of her thought that, maybe, her mother did know, but was waiting for Lucy to come clean on her own.

Whatever it was, Lucy had never been more thankful to see the beige walls and scratchy sheets of her dormitory. She and Marjorie greeted each other warmly in their room.

"How were the cousins?" Lucy asked, disappearing behind her bed for a moment to change into her nightgown.

Marjorie shrugged. "Oh, they didn't even talk to me. It was rather awful. I was stuck in the sitting room all alone. I hope your holiday was a bit more eventful."

"I guess you could say that." Lucy mumbled, but then smiled to her roommate's quizzical glances and shook it off.

For the next few weeks, school life went on as it would. Lucy spent a few hours into the night, pouring over a history or Old Testament lesson, and reciting equations and spelling words in her head. When she wasn't focused on her academics, she was splitting her in-school time between Marjorie and Alice, and then spent the remainder of her free time with Edmund.

Steadily, she found herself wanting to stay with Edmund longer, and more often than ever before; they would slink secretly into his dormitory late on Saturday nights. Edmund's dormitory that year was one of the easier ones for people to sneak in and out of, for it was right next to the end of the hall on the second floor; right next to the large window beside the door, was the fire escape. They simply pulled the fire escape down, and climbed up to the window (that was never locked from the outside; probably a certain Stephen Dawkins's doing), and slipped into the room. Once they reached the room, Dawkins would look at them, and start to laugh.

"At least warn me when you're planning on takin' her here," he said once, grabbing a porkpie hat and a packet of cigarettes of the desk, and opening the door. "Then this awkwardness ain't going to get in the way of you two."

Edmund threw a pillow at his roommate. "Oh, go away!"

Stephen shook his head as he walked down the hall, yelling behind him. "Fine, but you owe me!"

It was Edmund's turn to shake his head. "And that was my hat, too," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry. And you love hats." Lucy smiled sympathetically and put her hand on his head, running it through his hair.

"I'm never getting it back, either. That's what I get for not having everything I own under lock and key." Edmund smiled slightly, and then frowned, noticing how Lucy had grabbed the wall, closing her eyes. "Are you feeling all right?"

Lucy nodded. "I'm just a little dizzy."

Edmund frowned, and sat her down on his bed delicately. "You've been feeling oddly for a few weeks. You should probably go and see the nurse tomorrow."

Feeling a somewhat unnecessary prick of annoyance at Edmund, Lucy sighed and crossed her arms and legs.

"And now you're angry with me." Edmund said, incredulous. "Bloody fantastic."

Lucy scarcely got so moody, Edmund knew, except for that one week a month he preferred not to think about.

"I'm not angry," Lucy said, somewhat gruffly. "I just don't want to go to the nurse tomorrow."

"Fine, then don't. I'm easy. I just don't want you to be sick. "

Here, Lucy decided to change the subject. "You know, it sure is nice of Dawkins to just leave the room when I come in."

Chuckling, Edmund said, "Well, he doesn't want to be in here with us."

"Oh, I didn't mean _that_." Lucy shoved him lightly. "I mean that he's willing to just up and leave in the middle of the night."

"Yeah, erm, he's a brick." Edmund said, sarcastically.

"In all seriousness," Lucy said, eyes still shining in the sudden amusement, "you tell him that we appreciate it, right?"

Edmund turned somewhat red. "Wrong. I never mention it. That would open up an opportunity for a conversation about this. And I prefer to keep what happens on the mattress between you and me. Even though, somehow, people keep on finding out about it."

Lucy smiled sympathetically, rubbing her husband's forearm. He had always been a bit uncomfortable talking about that particular subject; it took him a year to become at ease talking about it with her. It was actually humorous remembering how utterly uncomfortable he had been talking about it with the physician in Narnia when they had been trying to have a baby, and the physician actually had to know.

"Either way," Lucy said slowly, "I think you should tell him, at least, that I appreciate it. It's considerate of him, after all."

Blinking, Edmund looked at Lucy in awe. "You are so incredibly _female_, Lu."

Deciding to be bold, Lucy sat in closer to her husband and kissed his neck and ear to, whispering. "And here I thought you liked that fact about me."

The next thing Lucy knew, she was up against the wall, Edmund already began bring her skirt down off her hips, and he said, "Trust me, I love that fact about you."

XXXXXXXX

Lucy woke up the next morning, head pounding, and feeling as though all the contents of her stomach, being acid and supper from the night previous, were about to come up. She was beginning to believe that perhaps Edmund was right, that she ought to see the nurse. It was so queer; other than the short dizzy spell, she had felt absolutely fine the night before.

"Edmund," she whispered, shaking her husband on the shoulder. "Edmund! Wake up. "

Edmund rolled over lazily and slurred out, "Wha? What's wrong?"

"I'm feeling sick, so I think I'm going to go and see the nurse."

Lurching up to a sitting position, still not entirely awakened, Edmund asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, just a little nauseous."

"Dizzy?"

"Not particularly."

"Oh," at this, Edmund rolled back onto his pillow. "Do tell me what it is when you find out, then."

Lucy rolled her eyes and found her way into clothes from the day before. Using Edmund's hairbrush, she smoothed down her mussed up hair, and shrugged on her coat. All in about two minutes, she was ready to brave the February morning.

Perhaps we should blame it on the fact Lucy was feeling ill, and therefore, didn't stop to think that it was a Sunday, and that she couldn't simply be able to waltz through gates at St. Finbar's and not get in trouble. We shall have to excuse her momentary lapse of thought. Within two minutes of returning to her own campus, she found a rather cross-looking nun snappishly demanding to know where she had been, why she was missing Mass, and filling in the guidelines of her punishment for the two infractions.

No sooner had the nun finished, when Lucy could no longer hold it in, she lurched over her stomach and promptly vomited, dangerously close to the nun's shoes. Since she had no food in her stomach, her stomach ached instantly, and her throat burned from the acid that had come up.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Sister Catharine. I didn't get any on you, did I?"

Sister Catharine looked at her charge. "Are you ill?"

Lucy nodded.

"Do you think you'll vomit again?"

Lucy nodded once more, and proceeded to gag as though to prove her point.

Therefore, Sister Catharine softened. "Let's get you to the nurse then, Ms. Rosenthal, and after she helps you out, then we'll discuss your punishment."

The nurse was one of the few staff members at St. Finbar's who wasn't a nun. Evidentially, she was a former student who had become a nurse during the War, and having lost her father, brother, and husband during the same time, went to St. Finbar's, knowing she would have a roof over her head so long as she did the job she was trained to do, knowing she would not have the same treatment if she chose to move in with her monstrosity of an aunt.

She was actually quite a pretty thing, somewhat willowy with auburn hair and glasses. Being one of the youngest members on staff, many of the girls took a liking to her. Lucy had done the math once, and discovered that she herself was two years older than the nurse, causing her to develop a friendship with her, exercising the more adult part of her brain that was otherwise unused.

"She's ill," Sister Catharine informed the nurse. "She vomited a few minutes ago. I shall leave you to the examination."

With Sister Catharine gone, the nurse turned to Lucy, eyeing her oddly. "That doesn't look like clothes for Mass, Lucy," she said, grabbing a thermometer off a cabinet.

Lucy shook her head. "I didn't go."

The nurse frowned, but stuck the thermometer in Lucy's mouth. Once she pulled it out, she examined it. "Well, you don't have a fever."

Lucy frowned. "I don't know. But, I've been getting nauseas a lot recently, actually. And dizzy, and I've been so awfully tired."

The nurse put a stick on Lucy's tongue, and looked down her throat. "Hmm," she said, and throwing the stick away, she asked, "How are your monthly cycles? Are you regular?"

Lucy nodded again. "Usually. I'm a bit late this month, though."

With somewhat over large eyes, the nurse looked at Lucy. "Do you get backaches and headaches?"

Nodding, Lucy said. "Occasionally."

Grabbing a little torch designed for nurses, she shined it into Lucy's eyes, gesturing her to look in certain places, "And how often do you have to urinate?"

Blinking, not seeing what this has to do with anything. "More often than usual."

The nurse sighed, as though nervous. "Lucy, I'm going to have to take a closer look at you. Go behind the curtain and get undressed, all right? There's a clean robe for you to wear."

Lucy, all of a sudden very confused, nodded and did as the nurse bid.

The exam was a bit awkward, as that sort of thing usually was. In a short time, the nurse stood up. "All right," she said, seemingly shaken. "you can get dressed now, there's a new toothbrush in the sink if you want to brush your teeth after vomiting."

Lucy jumped up off the table, and got dressed as soon as the nurse left. As she was doing so, she heard the nurse take the heavy telephone off the hook, and dial some numbers. She didn't think much of it at first, and proceeded to clean her mouth, when she heard the nurse's voice say quietly. "Yes, Lucy Rosenthal."

Not wanting to eavesdrop, but considering it was about her, Lucy stopped scrubbing her teeth, and turned off the water, listening closely.

"Well, she definitely doesn't have any illness. Yes. Yes. I'm absolutely positive. She's…yes. All right. Godspeed."

Lucy broke passed the curtain, and said curiously. "What was that about?"

The nurse frowned. "You need to go and see the headmistress now, Lucy."

"What did I do?"

"I'm not allowed to say."

"Well, what do I have, then?"

The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry, Lucy. I can't say."

With this, Lucy left the nurse's office and walked through the snowy road leading through St. Finbar's to the headmistress's office.

XXXXXX

Lucy sat in a rather uncomfortable wooden chair with a Bible in her hands; she had only just read a few passages from Deuteronomy, when the door to the headmistress's office opened.

"Ms. Rosenthal, come inside." Sister Mary, the headmistress, said, and Lucy stood.

No sooner had she sat down in front of the headmistress's desk, when the lady handed her an envelope, and said, in a strangely distant voice, "Lucy Rosenthal, we regret to inform you that you have been expelled from St. Finbar's Catholic School for Girls."

Lucy blinked. "Expelled? What did I do?"

"You don't know already?" Sister Mary said, shocked.

Lucy shook her head.

"May God be with you and forgive you for your infractions." Sister Mary made a cross across her chest. "Child, you are…"

As the nun finished the sentence, Lucy immediately felt as though she was going to vomit again. "So," she said, swallowing the bad taste in her mouth, "What am I supposed to do now? I can't get home…"

Sister Mary nodded. "Well, firstly, you have until Tuesday. The next train that arrives closest to your hometown leaves then. We shall provide your ticket, and the cost for it will come from the remainder of your tuition for this term, and whatever is not used shall be mailed back to you. You will return your books and your uniforms, and have the opportunity to go to Confession. And from then on, you are on your own. Do you understand?"

Lucy nodded numbly. "Yes. I think so."

XXXXXXX

Edmund eventually rolled out of his covers, and proceeded slowly with his day. That was one of the joys of going to a school that did not force you to wake up and go to any sort of religious meeting; he could sleep in on Sundays. Dawkins had already come back to the room by the time he woke up, and was playing with the two-way as quietly as he could and still understand what he was listening to. After breakfast, Edmund returned the room with a cup of tea and settled in to his quiet Sunday routine.

It wasn't until noon, and the boys still lounging about, when there came a sharp knocking at the door. Dawkins, curious, rose to answer it. "Lucy?" he said perplexed.

Edmund sat up straight. Usually, Stephen would have made some sort of smart remark. Something was wrong. He stood up to go to the door, only finding Lucy already in the room, snow on her shoulders still from when she had crossed the road to see him. Her eyes were red and puffy. "What's wrong?" Edmund asked instantly.

Stephen, with an unusual burst of tact, stepped outside the room. "I'll leave you alone."

"Lu, what's wrong?" Edmund repeated, softer, reaching out to touch his wife's cheek.

Lucy shook her head. "Ed…I'm…we're…" she stammered.

"What is it?" Edmund pressed again.

Sighing, as though it was hard for her to believe, Lucy said, "I'm pregnant."

Edmund blinked once. Then, he blinked again, staring at his wife.

"Say something." She pleaded.

Sighing, Edmund said, more to himself than to her, "Well that's just unfair, isn't it?"

Cocking a brow, Lucy seemed perplexed, and Edmund continued: "Well, back in Narnia, when we wanted a baby, and were trying, and would have been able to give it anything, we couldn't. And now, well, now it happens."

"What are we going to do?" Lucy asked, delicately.

"Not sure yet," Edmund began pacing. "How did you find out?"

Lucy explained how she had gone to the nurse, and what had happened from there. Finishing, she said, "I've got until Tuesday. Then I have to go back to Finchley, they're getting my train ticket as we speak."

"I'm going back with you," Edmund said. "I have to. I suppose now our parents will let us get married by law—they'll have to, I'd imagine. And then, well, I suppose we'll just have to take things as they come to us. For now, I have to get a train ticket for Tuesday."

Shaking her head, Lucy said, "Are you sure? I thought you actually wanted to go on to a university and then law school?"

Letting out a halfhearted laugh, Edmund mumbled, "After my grandmother last Christmas, I don't think I even want to."

"I just don't want you to regret this."

Pulling his wife into his arms, Edmund whispered, "All I would regret is leaving you alone like this."

XXXXXX

Lucy folded up the last of her clothes, save for the few she needed until Tuesday, into her trunk. Perhaps it was hormones, but she felt a twinge of sadness at the realization that she was not coming back. Never again would she walk into the white-walled dormitory, and share a room with Marjorie Preston. It was a strange realization, Lucy thought, pressing down on the trunk, closing it with a loud click.

Once it snapped shut, Lucy looked at her glassy reflection in the window. She turned sideways, pressing her hand against her stomach. The realization that there was someone in there, a little person, still felt strange to her. It was hard to believe, but believing was one thing that she did best. She tried to visualize what she would look like in a matter of months, all taken over by a big belly, and found that it looked ridiculous in her brain, having always been a skinny girl, any amount of body fat automatically seemed to look completely out of place.

She was still looking at her midsection when the door opened; Marjorie entered the room, blowing on her hands. She nearly jumped two feet in the air seeing her roommate.

"Lucy!" Marjorie said, "Thank goodness. You didn't come back last night, and when you still weren't here this morning…I assumed you stayed with Alice last night, but when she hadn't seen you either…I got a little worried."

Lucy shook her head, and proceeded to fold up her clean uniforms she would no longer need. "No, I've been fine," she said.

Marjorie's smile melted. "Lu," she said, "are you…packing?"

This time, Lucy reluctantly nodded, "I'm going back to Finchley."

"But, why?" Marjorie asked, mouth agape.

Chewing on her lip, Lucy said, feeling the strangeness of the phrase on her lips, "Well, I've been expelled."

Marjorie seemed shocked. "What? How? You never even get detentions!"

Lucy pressed her lips together so hard they turned white. Blinking, she sighed and smiled weakly at her friend. Slowly, she said, "I'm having a baby."

Staring for a moment, Marjorie shook her head. "No, you aren't. And that's not funny, Lucy. Seriously, why?"

"I'm being honest!" Lucy said, "I really am pregnant."

Marjorie covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh, God." It was all she seemed to be able to make herself say. "Oh, God."

"It's not like I'm a different person," Lucy said, perhaps trying to convince herself. "I'm still me. I've just got a littler person inside of me."

Here, Marjorie decided to get angry. Quietly, she said, "I'm not sure you ever were who I thought you were. Lucy, you've had…you've been _with_ someone. That's just not something my old roommate would do."

"It's more complicated than just that. Believe me. I really need my friends right now; I don't know how Mum's going to react. And Frank was already trying to get me to stop seeing Edmund…"

"Maybe you should've listened to him." Marjorie said quietly.

Shaking her head furiously, Lucy said, "Marjorie! Please!"

Marjorie's lips quivered, and she sat down at her desk with a notebook and a pen. Lucy felt tears welling up inside of her eyes. If that was how Marjorie acted, she didn't even want to imagine telling her mother and stepfather.

**A/N: Whoo hoo. I'll bet everybody saw THAT cliché coming! Anyhow, please review on your way o.u.t, if only to tell me how unimaginative I am. XD **


	14. The Truth Comes Out

**A/N: So, I don't really want to sound like a review-whore, but I wanted to thank all the people who reviewed that I didn't get around to replying to. I opened my email inbox this morning and saw fourteen reviews for this story alone. That's more than I've ever gotten! I just wanted to thank you all. I've been having a bit of a hard time, since my sister is now at college and I've never had to live without her, so I just wanted to tell ya'll that I appreciated it. Anyhow, moving on with the story…. **

**Chapter Fourteen  
>The Truth Comes Out<strong>

****Edmund woke up early on Tuesday morning, a train ticket on his nightstand, and his clothes packed into his trunk. He groggily sat up, only to find Dawkins already awake. The boys said nothing, as Dawkins was facing the opposite direction at his scarcely used desk, and Edmund changed, and brushed his teeth, spitting into a cup. Dawkins had acted considerably better than Lucy's roommate had when Edmund told him that Lucy was pregnant. Perhaps it was that Stephen already knew that the two were physical, or maybe it was because that sort of thing out of wedlock (so they thought) wasn't shocking to him. Either way, it made the last few days for Edmund much nicer than they had been for poor Lucy.

Edmund finished the last-minute packing of pajamas and put on his coat, scarf, and hat, before turning to Stephen. "Well," he said, holding a hand out to his roommate, "it's been nice knowing you."

Dawkins turned around on the chair, taking Edmund's hand in the shake, but saying, "Don't think you've seen the last o' me. I might just turn up every once in a while, surprise you."

"I'll be seen you then," Edmund shook his head good-humouredly. "Oh, and before I go, just a word of advice; try actually being nice to Alice now and then."

"Nice," Dawkins said, with a pseudo frown on his lips. "I'm not sure I know the meanin' of the word."

The boys shook hands once more, and Edmund climbed down the fire escape to meet his wife at the train station. It wasn't until he had almost reached it that he realized his pocket felt queerly. Unlike usual brushes with Stephen Dawkins, where one's pockets would feel significantly lighter, his suddenly felt heavier. He looked reached in and found a little matchbook and ten pence; both things that Dawkins had stolen from him earlier in the year, that Edmund hadn't felt the need to bring up, not thinking it that big of a deal. He smiled slightly, as he neared the train station.

Walking up to the ticket booth, he saw a gruff-looking man inside. He approached the booth, and ordered his ticket. The man eyed him suspiciously, but gave him his ticket nonetheless. Before Edmund left, however, the man said, "Don't give anybody trouble, you hear, boy? Do your business and be polite. Don't give us any trouble."

Edmund walked away growling. Why was it than whenever he went anywhere unconventional or unexpected, people automatically assumed he was up to no good? Granted, usually he was up to some kind of mischief, but that gave them no excuse. He waited in a shadowy corner, and watched for Lucy to come and board that train with him, for this very familiar ride, for the last time.

Lucy arrived ten minutes later, with Alice Little by her side, and with her trunk in tow. She put the trunk on the ground and turned to her friend. The girls exchanged a quick conversation that Edmund did not hear as he approached, but got the ending of it.

"….and I'll write," Alice was swearing. "whenever you should need to hear from me, of course."

Lucy smiled, and seeing Edmund approaching behind her friend, coughed, springing a few tears up with it. "Oh, I'll miss you, Alice," she said.

Alice nodded. "I'll miss you too…but I'll come and visit. You'll see, you should, it's just a new chapter. Good luck, Lucy."

Nodding, Lucy embraced her friend tightly for a few good minutes, and then broke away to take refuge under her husbands arm. The three of them loaded the trunks onto the train, and then Alice went back, waving to them as the train rolled away.

The train ride was deathly silent, Lucy kept on threatening to get sick all over the compartment, and mostly uncomfortable. After about an hour of silence, Lucy eventually spoke up, "What are you going to say to your parents?"

Edmund shrugged. "The truth, I suppose. I don't really have a plan. But, when all of this happens, would you be willing to marry me again, just in law this time?"

Lucy nodded, and then gave a somewhat bitter laugh. "And how many times after that do you think we'll have to get married before people stop criticizing us?"

"At this point," Edmund squeezed his wife's hand. "I don't think it'll ever stop. We've just got to grow an extra layer of skin, and eventually, people will get caught up in their own lives and forget."

Lucy sighed, and the rest of the train ride was silently unpleasant. She had no idea how to tell it to her mother, how not to bring back horrid memories of Helen's circumstances; this whole situation was a bit too close to that for comfort.

In arriving at the train station, Edmund and Lucy took a cab to take them back home (neither of them had called ahead of time to get their parents to pick them up), and the ride was just as cold and unfriendly. The cab driver looked confused, Lucy thought, but had enough tact not to say a single word to them. He looked as though he understood that they were in no mood for friendly conversation, and again Lucy wondered if her mother and stepfather would understand.

Once arriving back in her hometown, Lucy helped Edmund pay the cabby with whatever was left in her pockets (only about a quarter of the fare), and said goodbye to her husband, who crossed the road to fight his fist battle, in talking with Miriam. She then went back to her own house, finding the door locked, she sat down on her trunk, as the snow looked too wet to sit on directly.

Her coat was thin, and she wrapped herself into it as much as she could, making the most out of the thin fabric. Some winter birds, mostly fieldfares, flew madly above her head. Lucy never felt so restricted to the ground.

It didn't make sense, she felt guilty, as usual, but with no reason. The only thing that seemed to matter at that moment, was that she was having a baby, and nobody understood the circumstances under which it was conceived. She would be disappointing her mother, and causing trouble for both families. Edmund was right; it was bloody unfair. Especially since, and she still remembered the intense wanting she had of a baby in Narnia, when they could successfully have and raise a child, they couldn't. But, now, by accident, they were going to; and she didn't even know if she would still have a home the next day. In her head, she hoped that her mother wouldn't follow in her grandmother's footsteps when it came to that sort of thing. However, she knew she and Edmund would be married by British law soon enough, so it hardly mattered; but she didn't want to be entirely estranged from her family, again.

From inside, she heard a high-pitched bark, and a moment later, Jacky came running to her, having left through a doggy door in the back. He yipped happily, and put his head on his master's knees. To this, Lucy broke down shivering and once again scooped Jacky in her arms, as she always did when she was upset. "Oh, what am I going to do?"

Meanwhile, Edmund stepped into the kitchen to find his mother doing the dishes. Miriam looked up, startled. "Edmund? What on earth are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too, Mum," Edmund said.

Miriam simply blinked. "You're supposed to be in London."

Edmund sighed. "Mum, I really don't want to explain this twice, do you think we could wait until Dad gets home?"

"He's got court today. He could be out until nine or later." Miriam dried her hands on a towel, putting her hands on her son's forehead, and asked, "Are you sick?"

"Not really," Edmund mumbled. "And I can wait for Dad. It might be better that way."

Miriam nodded slowly. "I suppose. Edmund, did your school send you away?"

"Again, that's kind of the story in itself." Edmund said, heading up the stairs, to await judgment from his parents.

XXXXXXX

Helen Rosenthal-Gargery walked through the chilled February air on her way home from work. It wasn't a long shift, but for that she was thankful. She liked having the ability to do dishes and sweep, chores that usually got put aside when Lucy wasn't home. It was, somewhat, like a special time simply for her. Well, her and Jacky, seeing as the spaniel hated to be alone and would almost stalk her.

She walked up the walkway to her front door, with her head down, fishing for her keys in her purse, and almost screamed when she looked up. There was her daughter, sitting on the front step, with her trunk by her feet, and Jacky on her lap. Her face was puffy and red, chapped from the cold winter air.

"Lucy?" she asked incredulously.

"Hullo, Mum," Lucy said, shaking as she stood up.

"What happened?" Helen demanded, and then shook her head, "Let's get you inside first."

Lucy stepped down and let her mother twist the key in the lock and step inside. She grabbed her much-lighter trunk and took it in. The house wasn't dirty by any means, but it wasn't as clean as she was used to, the floor was a bit dirty (a lived-in dirty, that is), there were a few dishes lying in the sink, and a little spider's web hung in a corner.

Now that they were inside, Helen turned to her daughter. "What happened? Why aren't you at school?"

Lucy bit her lip. "I got expelled."

"What?" Helen repeated, and then went on, "Lucy! Because your tuition was from my mum's will, we didn't have to pay. We can't afford to take you to another school, at least not another private school."

"I can't go to school at all," Lucy mumbled. "Not anymore."

Helen furrowed her brows. "What…what do you mean?"

"Mum," Lucy said, suddenly feeling much younger than she had in years; for once, she felt her age completely, and it scared her. "I'm having a baby."

"What?" Helen said, looking as though all of her nightmares had just danced in front of her.

"I'm pregnant." Lucy mumbled, wondering if that actually sounded harsher. "Mum, say something. Please."

Helen had phased out for a moment, honestly not knowing what to do. She looked terrified and angry all at once. Finally, she asked through her teeth, "With Edmund? Or did somebody else come into the picture?"

Lucy gasped. "Mum! Don't make me out to be a whore. Please! That's all everybody's done. I'm sick of it! It's not like that! I'm not like that. Don't you understand how it feels?"

"I think I deserved it. And you might, too, for all I know." At this point, Helen collapsed on a chair, crying. "Didn't you learn anything from me?"

Crying terribly, Lucy collapsed on the floor. "Mummy! Don't say that. This isn't history repeating. I swear."

"What do you want me to do, Lucy?"

Lucy shivered. "I want you to look me in the eye and say you love me anyway. Whatever else the world thinks of me, whatever else you think of me, I want to know that you still love me. And that you're not going to cast me away."

Helen stood, and grabbed her daughter's hands, embracing her, sobbing out. "Sweetie, I'll always love you. You could murder somebody and I'd still love you." She wiped away her daughter's tears. "You'll understand soon."

Lucy nodded.

"But, this doesn't mean that anything's going to get better. Or that I'm not incredibly disappointed. I honestly thought that you've simply been scared away from this sort of situation, so I never mentioned it before." Helen closed her eyes, crying a bit herself. "I need some time to think all of this over. Go to your room, Lucy. And stay there for a while."

XXXXXXX

Edmund waited uncomfortably for his father to come home. Miriam sat next to him on the sofa, still curious about her son's sudden entrance, sipping a glass of tea on one of the nicer sets of china the family owned. Edmund thought his mother certainly possessed more poise than he, as he shook his leg and twiddled his thumbs, Miriam sat up straight and sipped her tea.

James came through the door, holding a bursting briefcase, undoing his tie, and with his usually slicked back hair completely messed up, probably from his bad habit of running his hands through it when he got frustrated. It had been a hard day in court, Edmund could see. Oh, bloody brilliant.

"Miriam," James said, shutting the door behind him. "I don't think we've got a chance in winning this…" he faded, seeing his son sitting sheepishly on the sofa, and finished the sentence, "One. What is he doing here?"

"That's what I want to find out." Miriam said, "He said he wanted to wait for you."

"This has to be good then," James muttered, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "All right, Ed. Go ahead. Let's start with why you aren't in London."

"I left," Edmund said, looking at his hands. "I woke up, I got a ticket, and I boarded a train."

"Why?"

Edmund sighed, and unlike his wife, who was rather blunt about it, beat about the bush. "You remember those rumors going around a few years ago about me and Lucy? Well, I think they're going to come back."

James furrowed his brow and exchanged a look with Miriam. "And why is that?" he said, his voice getting a bit low, like a growling animal.

"You're going to be grandparents in about eight months." Edmund mumbled, slurring all of the words together so they came out as one.

Miriam choked on her tea, and began a furious coughing fit. Edmund pounded on her back. "Mum! Are you all right?"

James stood up and began walking around the room. Saying slowly, as though trying to figure it out, "You got Lucy pregnant?"

"Yeah," Edmund said slowly.

Miriam looked immediately to James, who had his eyes shut, breathing hard. Edmund looked at his mother, and then back to his father. He had never seen James so angry.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the lamp flew across the room, breaking into hundreds of pieces against the wall. Sparks flew out of the outlet in which it was plugged in. "Are you really such an idiot? You don't think! What is wrong with you?" James yelled.

Edmund sat rather petrified; James never raised his voice.

"Do you ever think of anyone besides yourself? Your mother and I have given you everything and you still need to take advantage of the girl! Do you have any idea what kind of hell she's been through? Do you have to add to it? I've been supportive of the damn relationship because I thought you thought with your brain and understood boundaries when it comes to this sort of thing! I've raised you better than this!"

This time, Edmund was on his feet, feeling defensive. "You never raised me at all! Sending me off to a boarding school, and you work at home in the summertime, but you're always locked up in that office, so I scarcely see you anyway. _Merde, vous_!"

"Edmund!" Miriam intervened. "Don't you ever talk like that to your father ever again. And, both of you, calm down!"

Edmund stomped up the stairs, and slammed his bedroom door.

XXXXX

When Lucy heard the front door open and close that evening, she slowly began to come down the stairs, figuring that she had better tell Frank what had happened. By the time she was halfway down, however, she realized that Helen had already done so. Curious, she hid on the staircase.

"I told that girl to stop seeing him!" Frank said gruffly. "If she had listened to me, we wouldn't be in this mess."

The sound of dishes in the sink suddenly clashed. "You…you _knew_?"

"Around Christmas I walked in on them, I told her to stop seeing him, but she wouldn't listen."

"You knew that Lucy was doing that sort of thing, and you never told me?"

"I wanted her to be the one to tell you…."

"Frank!" Lucy could just picture her mother; with her hands on her hips. "That's the sort of thing _you_ tell _me_! We might have been able to persuade her not to go so far."

"You're not blaming me for this are you, Nellie? It's my fault that your daughter got seduced and bedded?"

Lucy crept all the way down the stairs and, sitting on the bottom step, watched how she was not noticed.

"Of course not, but it's the fact that you never told me! She's my daughter, and I have a right to know if you walk in on her and her boyfriend doing something wrong!"

Lucy walked more into the room, and mumbled "Erm, may I say something?"

"What is it?" Frank said, rubbing his temples.

"Even though I stand by what I told Frank, that Ed and I actually didn't do anything wrong, it's neither of your faults," she said. "Even if Frank had told you, Mum, I wouldn't have stopped. You could have shipped me off to the States, and I would've found a way back here. And this might've happened no matter who told who what."

Helen crossed her arms and looked at her feet. "I remember being in your shoes," she said eventually, and then sighed. "Have you talked to Edmund about it, yet?"

Lucy nodded, allowing herself to smile about this. "He came home with me, actually. Just up and got a train ticket and came with me."

XXXXXXXXX

The next morning, Edmund got out of bed, dressed, and was otherwise entirely ready in less than ten minutes. He practically galloped down the stairs, preparing to go across the street, and see how things had gone with Frank and Helen.

However, his plan, naturally, had to be foiled at least slightly. Miriam and James were waiting for their son at the dining table.

"Sit down, Ed," Miriam said, and almost reading his mind said, "We'll let you go in a minute."

Edmund sat down, and almost the second he did, James turned to him. "So, what's your plan, Edmund?"

Blinking, Edmund asked, "Erm, what?"

"Your plan." James repeated. "For the rest of your life. As of now, you're responsible for not just yourself, but for Lucy, and a baby. I'm going to assume that you're planning on marrying her?"

Edmund nodded. "Yeah, of course."

James cleaned off his glasses. "And do you have an idea for an occupation? A place to live? How much you'll get for a salary? You'll need to get enough for monthly rent for a flat. And then how much will you give Lucy for allowance? If you'll go to church, where? How will you run your household? Have you talked to her about that?"

"All right," Edmund finally said. "I get it. I'm in over my head."

Nodding, James then said, "And that's why your mother and I are going to help you learn to swim, so to speak. A somewhat new man who works at my firm, Johnson, is looking for a new secretary. I might be able to get you a job there. The job pays well enough so that you'll be able to afford a flat, and give Lucy a small allowance. And, furthermore, if you get a job, any job at all, your mother and I will allow you, Lucy, and the baby to live in the quarters for two years. No monetary rent required, so long as Lucy comes five days a week, providing she's able, and helps Miriam around this house. That would be your rent. Once the two years are over, you'll need to get your own flat."

Miriam cut in, "Once the baby comes, it will actually help Lucy, since I'll be with her during the day to help, and then Helen will be just across the street if she wants to help as well."

Edmund chewed on the inside of his cheek. "It sounds good to me, but I'll have to check and see if Lucy's all right with it."

His parents nodded, and then Miriam waved her hand. "All right, go on and talk to her."

Once Edmund left, James sighed and stood, pacing. "Don't you think we're being too easy on him, Miriam?"

Miriam smiled slightly. "Of course we are. But, they're going to get hell from everybody else. Why do we need to add to it? And besides, making him suffer isn't going to help either him or our new daughter-in-law."


	15. Continuing On

**Chapter Fifteen  
><strong>**Continuing On **

Two weeks after coming home from school with the life changing new that she was carrying, Lucy found herself cleaning out the remainder of things from her wardrobe and moving across the street for good. Everything was happening so quickly, knowing that the legal marriage was only the next day. It would not be anything close to a big affair, simply going down to the courthouse in the morning, and signing a slip of paper. As far as Lucy was concerned, her previous weddings had more meaning than that, but she was willing to do what she had to.

She lugged her truck down the stairs with one hand, holding an old carpetbag in the other, and turned to her mother, dropping her luggage. They embraced, feeling the new, strange dynamic of their relationship coming over them. Of course things would never be the same, nothing ever was. Something had been lost between the mother and her daughter; a firm bond of trust, and it took a toll on Lucy, for the only thing she had done wrong about the matter was sneaking around, but obviously Helen did not see it the same way. Nonetheless, it still was somewhat emotional to realize that the next time she'd be in this house, she would be a guest.

"I'll see you tomorrow at the courthouse," Helen said, smoothing down Lucy's collar.

Lucy couldn't help but allow some tears to well up in her eyes. "Goodbye, Mummy. I'll see you later."

The women began to cry. Nothing would ever be the same the instant Lucy walked through the door. Of course, it still wasn't the same. Nobody saw her as an innocent, sweet child anymore, not even her mother. In everyone's eyes, she was simply a girl who got pregnant in a way that everyone saw as unholy. Helen was the one person who understood, in the teeniest fraction, what she was feeling. Thus, feeling the wound in the relationship, they continued to cry.

After a few good minutes of this, and then after Lucy and Helen broke their embrace, tears still falling freely from their red and puffy faces, Edmund came up and took Lucy under his arm, and whispered into her ear, "Do you want a little bit longer? Or should we go?"

Lucy nodded, sniffling. "I think we ought to go."

Edmund stepped forward, offering his hand to Frank, "Good bye, sir."

Frank seemed reluctant, but after a moment, took Edmund's hand, however his manner clearly showed that he blamed Edmund in full for the whole situation, and was planning to hold a grudge.

Lucy coughed. "By Sunday we should be moved in. Mum and Frank, do you want to come and have Sunday dinner with us?"

Helen stepped forward and kissed her daughter's forehead. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, dear."

This started the women up again in tears, and Edmund grabbed Lucy's trunk off the ground after handing her the carpetbag, and they slowly turned away, walking up the pathway, with Jacky following them confusedly on a leash wrapped around Lucy's wrist.

XXxxxxxxXX

It almost seemed stupid, how those two little signatures suddenly meant that two people were partners for life, and yet when they swore their lives to each other on their own meant nothing. Edmund had to remind Lucy that it wasn't going to fix everything. They were still going to be put under a microscope and examined like roaches. Not only was it the curse of living in a higher class, but also it was the curse of being caught on the wrong end of what everybody assumed was a scandal.

Either way, it hardly mattered. The important part was that they were together, and from then on, no sneaking out be necessary. The price, however, was indeed somewhat high. The wedding bands were heavy on their hands, both metaphorically and literally. They hadn't worn such jewelry in years, and the sudden weight was somewhat alarming.

Lucy didn't mind helping her mother-in-law with chores throughout the day. There was much more to do in the large house; more do dust, more to sweep, and more to wash. But, with two people working on it, it did go by rather quickly. Together, they would talk cheerfully about this or that, doing the basic chores. Lucy continued to be shocked to find that even though they were sweeping and dusting daily, they still had a maid who came along and waxed and polished everything. She had never given much thought to how much work went into maintaining a house like that, and it honestly made her feel a little guilty. In Narnia, as a queen, there had been so many servants, and she was thankful and aware of all they did to keep Cair Paravel running, but it was a completely different situation when it was herself doing all of it; it gave her a bigger appreciation of it.

Once she was done in the larger house, she returned to her own house. Sometimes her feet were a bit sore, but nonetheless, brave Lucy persevered and cleaned her own house. Laughing slightly at herself; back when she had been living with Helen and Frank, she had thought that she spent a good fraction of her time cooking and cleaning, it seemed like it was all she ever did.

Her brakes, however, Lucy loved. She would tie a leash onto Jacky's collar, and take him on a daily walk. He always seemed confused that they wouldn't go the usual direction back to what he thought was supposed to be home, but eventually got the new schedule. However, the little spaniel always got overjoyed when he, his master, and his master's pet (this was Edmund, in Jacky's eyes), would cross the road and have dinner with his family, and he would always get confused when they crossed the road again, going in the wrong direction. As a result, the dog spent most of his time sulking, disappointed in the change in the pack.

XXXXXXXXX

April was typically wet that year, although Edmund in his tiredness perceived it as rainier than past years, as he ran to his father's car through the rain, fastening his tie around his neck as he went. The sky was an ugly blackish gray color, and the lamps along the street gave the only sustainable light to the neighborhood. By now, his socks and shoes would be drenched, Edmund thought bitterly as he stomped through more puddles to make it into the passenger seat of his father's car.

James eyed his on quizzically when his son sat contemptuously into the seat. "Good morning to you, too, son," he chuckled, noting the bags under Edmund's eyes, putting the key into the ignition and stepping on the gas.

No sooner were they out of the driveway, then Edmund threw his arms up, and said in a voice, as though beseeching his father, "Lucy's gone mental!"

"How so?" James asked, reaching into the breast pocket of his suit to hand his son a much-needed smoke.

Edmund accepted the cigarette, and said with it between his teeth and giving it a light, "Right before we go to bed, she starts asking me if I think she's fat."

"She's pregnant." James said, as though the answer was obvious.

"That's what I said!" Edmund agreed, "But that's not what she wanted me to say, apparently. Because then she goes off, but not in an angry way or anything, but as though she's depressed about the matter, about how she thinks I think she's huge. Mostly because I've been too tired to…" he faded, catching himself in an awkward statement. "Be romantic, or anything."

James laughed again. "That's typical. Women usually become emotional train wrecks, and usually want to 'be romantic,' as you're calling it, more often as well. It's normal."

"Not for Lucy," Edmund muttered, breathing in the smoke as long as he could. "She's never complained about anything like that before. Not the romance thing; the getting fat thing."

"Has she begun to rearrange everything and clean constantly yet?" James asked, taking a rather sharp turn on the wet street.

Edmund groaned. "Is she going to do that? Fantastic. What about the fact that she can't concentrate on anything?"

"Normal." James shrugged. "Your mum was worse than that. She literally had mood swings in the middle of a conversation. She'd be yelling at me one minute for something idiotic, like not making sure my shoes were exactly parallel to each other, and then she's be apologizing for not using matching china for dinner that night. Does anything else happen to make you question your wife's mental stability?"

Edmund nodded slowly. "And then, last night. After the whole fat or not fat debate, after we finally managed to go to sleep, she wakes me up at two in the morning wanting to have a picnic!"

To this, James couldn't help put let out a loud peal of laugher. "She _what_?"

"She wanted to get up and have a picnic. Right then." Edmund grumbled, not seeing the humor in his situation. "So I went downstairs to the kitchen, made her a requested sauerkraut, tuna, pickle and strawberry jam sandwich. When I came back upstairs, she had a blanket on the ground, and we had a picnic at two in the morning."

James continued to laugh. He had been there. "Hang in there, Ed. Lucy's, what, three months in?"

"Four."

"See, about five more months to go. All these little quirks will seem normal by the end, and yes, you'll think you're mad for marrying her. And then you'll have the baby, and all of the insanity you've had with her will melt away. But your lives will move on to focus on the baby entirely. From then on, everything continues to change. Life becomes routine eventually, Ed," James said, offering up the fatherly advice he could, passing through the rainy streets. "Just be prepared to be more tired than this when the baby comes."

"Brilliant," Edmund muttered, throwing the remainder of his cigarette out the window.

James shrugged. "It gets better. Trust me."

The good part about Edmund's relationship with his father now, he thought, was that after James got the chance to cool off, he was actually there for him a lot more. Someone had to warn him about the dangers of female hormones at those stages. Edmund was happy enough for this; if James was still throwing lamps around, he didn't know what would've happened. Somehow, Miriam had gotten her husband to cool down, and to more or less forgive their son. One would not question that tactics of Miriam Martin.

In arriving at the_Warren Inkling Prosecution Firm_**, **Edmund and James went their separate ways. James scurried off to his own office, after grabbing a file from his own secretary, an older lady with a haircut resembling a tall beehive, to look over more of his latest case.

Edmund sat at his desk in the opposite wing, looking over a stack of papers to be filed, and some case testaments to be typed up and looked over. He sighed, and began to do so, when he saw the lawyer he worked for standing in front of him, impatiently tapping his shoes on the rug. "Martin," the voice belonging to the shoes said.

"Yes?" Edmund asked, looking up from the stack of papers he started with.

"I told you that I wanted you here before I get here in the mornings, so I'd have a clue of what I'm supposed to be doing today." Johnson said, glaring.

Edmund sighed. "Sir, I told you, I can't get here any earlier, I have to ride with my father."

"Fine. What do I have today?"

Without even looking at Johnson's schedule, Edmund said, "You're meeting with your client at twelve-thirty, and before that you're looking over paperwork," he shoved a large folder towards his boss, "And afterward deciding how you're going to present the case."

It still seemed as though Johnson wanted to glare at him, but finding no real reason to, he said, "Go and file my last case so we can get it if we need it for this one…"

"I doubt that," Edmund mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

Edmund shrugged. "Well, that case was about two brothers settling their fathers will. This one's a murder case."

Johnson furrowed his brows. "Right," and without another word took the file into his office.

Edmund rolled his eyes, remembering vaguely that his father had had to take one of Johnson's first cases into his own hands, and help the man out simply because he was incompetent. Of course, that had happened a few years ago, so all of the details had gone missing from Edmund's mind, though he thought it was rotten luck. Somehow, however, Johnson managed to win enough cases so that the boss did not get suspicious and fire the man. That was both good and bad for Edmund; good because he wouldn't have to work with him anymore if he got fired, bad because if Johnson lost his job, so did he.

XXXXXXXXX

Lucy did not know why Miriam's garden club had to meet on an impossibly rainy April day, but she tried to put on her best face for it. She was somewhat afraid in the back of her mind, that perhaps Edmund had gotten a bit annoyed with her the night before. At the time, he had seemed a bit irritated with her when she had suggested a picnic, but dash it all, she had been hungry. Oh well, Lucy thought, I have to try and be cheerful and put my worries in the back of my mind.

At first, she kept to the kitchen, helping her mother-in-law make the sandwiches and the tea, that is, until Miriam came in, "Lucy, why don't you put the apron away, and have a cup of tea with us?"

Where normal courtesy would have her refuse, along with the way she had been raised, was where cravings had her accept. Lucy was just about to shake her head, when she remembered the kind of soft bread they had used to make the sandwiches, and the delicious cheeses, and the cakes and rolls, just the thought set her mouth to watering, and thus, she was rendered helpless.

The minute she stepped out of the room, however, into the almost menacing glances that is the woman of higher society, she desperately wished she could go back and hide in the kitchen.

"Ladies," Miriam said, smiling halfway, "I believe you've all met my daughter-in-law, Lucy? Lucy, you've met everyone before correct?"

"I think so," Lucy mumbled, taking her seat at the farthest end of the table, trying to avoid the judging glances from the likes of Stephanie Ford. "I think I've met everybody at least once."

As she sat, much to Lucy's dismay, Stephanie Ford began talking, "Oh, Miriam, I didn't know that Edmund got married."

Miriam nodded stiffly. "Yes, they had a little civil ceremony back in February."

"Back in February?" Stephanie said, giving a fake laugh, "And we're only just finding out now? What on earth are you trying to hide?"

All of the women around the coffee table went silent, staring at Stephanie Ford. All of them saw that a line had been crossed, but no one spoke. Miriam leaned on the arm of a chair and rubbed her temples soothingly, some of the other ladies exchanged glances and timidly ate their sandwiches or sipped their tea.

When someone did speak, however, it was Lucy. She put her hands up, palms out, and shrugged. When her hands came down, they rested on her belly. "I don't think we can hide much, really," she said.

This seemed to lessen the tension that had built up in the Martin's living room, and a few of the women laughed. One turned to Lucy, and said, "And married life is suiting you well?"

Lucy nodded. "Honestly, it's as though the only difference is that we're living together now."

The conversation remained on Lucy for several minutes. She found this uncomfortable; knowing that every last one of them was judging her in their own way. However, she did her best and remained poised throughout the conversation, but nonetheless was ecstatic when the sandwiches ran out and she could retreat into the kitchen for a few precious minutes to escape the wolf's den.

One Lucy was gone, Stephanie Ford turned to Miriam. "Oh, Miriam," she said. "I knew something was going wrong at your house, but I never expected this. Oh, this must simply be the shame of the Martin household…"

"My son got married," Miriam said, "there's nothing shameful about that. I knew he'd get married eventually."

"Not that," Stephanie said, putting her teacup down on the saucer. "Why she must be at least six months pregnant! Though, you know, Miriam, you probably should've seen it coming; like mother like daughter, and we all know Helen's got a somewhat promiscuous reputation."

Miriam coughed. "Erm, Stephanie," she said slowly, letting her slight temper flare.

"Yes? What is it, Miriam, dear?"

"I don't think any of this is really your business…"

Stephanie seemed shocked by the idea. "Why, Miriam, I am simply concerned for your well-being, and your reputation…"

"Just do us all a favor and shut up." Miriam stood, "Excuse me, ladies, I think I should go into the kitchen and see what's keeping Lucy."

When she walked into the kitchen, she found Lucy standing beside the door, balancing the tray next to her hip, and nibbling already on a finger sandwich. Swallowing the contents of her mouth, Lucy grinned. "That was incredible!"

Grabbing another tray off the counter, Miriam smiled slightly. "I always have longed to tell her that." Sighing, she put in, "But, it's not over yet. Come on, back into the fray."

XXXXXXXX

Because Lucy only worked five days a week, cleaning up the Martin household with Miriam, that gave her two days to do whatever needed to be done in detail in her own little house. Edmund usually worked Saturdays and had Sundays off, but one particular Sunday, where he was working extra to file in the last bits of details for court the following Monday, Lucy decided to use that time to do her grocery shopping.

Whenever she went into public where people didn't know her, Lucy scarcely got stares from the strangers. Perhaps it wasn't so abnormal to be fifteen and pregnant, she thought. Or maybe it was because everyone else was so wrapped up in their own lives that they didn't bother looking at the face of the little woman, or the body of the girl. Either way, she was thankful. When she was around people she and Edmund knew; either the community in their neighborhood, and even the congregation at church, they always got extra stares. It was not something she asked for, but merely something she got from having a little person inside of her.

She was in the middle of asking the grocer in the bakery if they happened to have any pumpernickel, when someone cried out from behind her, "Lucy! It can't be you!"

"Susan?" Lucy cocked a brow and turned around to see none other than the gentle queen, or somebody very much like her.

Susan definitely appeared differently than Lucy had ever remembered, with thick red lipstick on, and her face powdered a little too much. The expression, however, was no surprise. It was the look of sheer and utter confusion.

"Lucy," Susan said, as her old friend approached her, beginning before she got a good look at her, and fading when she did. "It's so nice to….see…you."

"You, too." Lucy said, still taking in the queer appearance of her old friend.

"You didn't tell me you were…" Susan gave out a little half laugh, realizing how rude it must have sounded.

Lucy decided to help her out by lifting her left hand, revealing rather plainly the silver and diamond wedding band.

"Married!" Susan chimed, happy for the help, as the two girls came to stand in front of each other next to a wall. "So, Lucy, do I know your husband?"

"It's Edmund," Lucy said, as though it were obvious.

Gasping slightly, Susan said, "Oh, not Edmund Martin! How sweet. In those games we used to play as children, you and Edmund pretended you were married. And now you are!"

"Games?" Lucy's smile faded entirely. "What…what do you mean, games?"

"Oh, you know," Susan said, "About that magical land of ours."

"Narnia."

"That's the one." Susan said, seemingly a bit curious about her childhood companion's sudden graveness, and redirected the conversation. "Well, as I said, it's very sweet. Have you thought of any names for the baby, yet?"

"Erm, not really. We're thinking of James for a boy, after his grandfather. If it's a girl we've discussed a lot of names. I'm partial to Elise, myself, or," Lucy sighed, putting all of her last hope into this last name, "Sybila."

When Susan had absolutely no reaction to her own firstborn daughter's name, Lucy felt her heart beat hundreds of times faster. She then asked quietly. "Have you spoken with Peter lately?"

"Peter? Peter Kingsley? Oh, not in years. But, we had a bit of a falling out a few years ago when he was visiting. I told him I was too old for our childhood games, and he didn't seem to want to grow up. But, it really is a treat seeing you again, Lucy."

Lucy gnawed on her lip. "Susan, I'm sorry. But I really have to go and finish the groceries, if you don't mind."

"Oh, not at all." Susan said, practically, but for a minute reached into her purse for a pen and paper. "Here, I'll give you my new address in case you would like to write. I'd love to stay in touch."

Lucy numbly took the address, and put on a rather fake smile, "All right, I'll see you around, Su."

That night, Lucy paced about the room, while Edmund changed into his pajamas. "I ran into Susan Annis, today," she said.

Edmund raised a brow, swinging his tie on the dresser. "Oh? Really? We haven't seen her in years. How is she doing?"

"She's forgotten everything." Lucy said, collapsing on the bed. "And I mean everything. I mentioned Sibyila and she never even batted an eye!"

Frowning, Edmund said, "And Sibyila was her favorite, too."

"You shouldn't have favorites of your children, Ed."

"I know that. But she did, and it was Sibyila." He began to stare off at the floor. "Do you think we're the only ones who remember, Lu?"

"I don't know. Ed, do you think we could give a call to the Professor? Maybe go and visit him. Talk to him about Narnia?"

Edmund nodded. "I'll borrow my parents' phone tomorrow. And maybe give Peter a call, too. I think I can find it through the operator."

Falling onto the pillows, Lucy stared at the ceiling and absentmindedly traced the bulge of her stomach. "Ed," she said quietly. "However things are working out for us now, or however they've been, I'm happy that I've got you. We'll always have Narnia, and we'll always have faith. Won't we?"

Edmund lay down to face her, halfway buried in pillows. "There's no way you could lose any of it. You love the country, the people, and naturally Aslan entirely too well to ever have it leave you for a second."


	16. After All This Time

**A/N: Mad props go to my eighty-eight (or is she eighty-nine?) year-old great-Grandma Green for telling me all about hospitals in the 1940s. **

**Chapter Sixteen  
>After All This Time<strong>

As it turns out, Edmund and Lucy were not the only two who still believed in Narnia; in fact, it soon came apparent that Susan was the only one who forgot. Thus, after a few telephone calls, meetings were quickly arranged for those who were still Friends of Narnia. Evidentially, the Professor and his friend Polly Plummer, both of whom had been present at the very creation of Narnia, had wanted to gather together with others that had gone and speak of their adventures together for a while now. It was somewhat bittersweet that the Professor had lost his great big house during the end of the war, but at least now he only lived a town away from Finchley. Every once in a while, they decided to all get together; Peter Kingsley, Edmund and Lucy Martin, the Professor Digory Kirke whom the children had stayed with during the war, Pollyr, Eustace Scrubb and his friend, Jill Pole. All together, they sat in the Professor's dining room, talking of happier times, back in Narnia.

Everyone seemed surprised when Edmund and Lucy showed up to the first meeting in May, shortly after Lucy had turned sixteen, with a rather severely pregnant lady.

Peter had looked startled, almost pale, but collected himself almost instantly with his congratulations and saying jokingly, "It took you long enough, Ed."

Edmund laughed back, turning a little red, and turned to everyone else's murmurs of congratulations. The Professor, Peter, Eustace, and even Edmund grew tired with talking about it soon enough. As far as they could see, yes, Lucy was pregnant. Women get pregnant every day. Yes, Edmund was rather excited to finally have a baby on the way, but that didn't mean he wanted to sit around with Jill Pole, Polly, and Lucy going off about what color drapery they were going to put into the nursery.

"Not yellow," Edmund said in spite of himself.

"But, I like yellow," Lucy put in.

"And it's asexual," Jill offered. "So you don't have to wait for the baby to buy it."

"No. Yellow." Edmund muttered.

Eventually, the friends of Narnia composed themselves in the way originally planned, and their conversations took off splendidly. Lucy thought she liked these sorts of meetings far better than the garden club meeting she had sat in on with her mother-in-law.

Peter had grown up strangely, Lucy thought. He had become a medical student, having studied with the Professor for summers in the past, but, although he was doing swell according to what he said, she sensed semi-emptiness in his eyes. She had to assume it was from the only part of his life that could be semi-empty, that he missed Susan. In every other aspect he was doing well, in the unimportant material needs he had enough, he had friends, and his family loved him, but the spark from the former High King's eyes was gone. It was as though a part of him had died, and in two very poetic and metaphorical ways, it had. The part of him he had given to his wife was forgotten just as she had forgotten Narnia. Lucy shuddered at the thought. She couldn't bear to think what she would have felt like if Edmund had forgotten.

The meetings had to be few and far in between, for the distance that everyone lived from one another. So, they talked for long hours, all about adventures. Eustace and Jill Pole retold their adventure of rescuing Caspian's son, the Professor and Polly talked about their adventure and in seeing Narnia's creation, and Peter, Edmund, and Lucy spoke of their long years in Narnia and their returning adventures. Everyone remembered their friends, and escapades, retelling and reminding each other again and again. Somehow, it managed to numb the reminder that they were not there anymore.

Edmund had previously called in for a cab driver, although he was extremely surprised to see Frank Gargery in the driver's seat. Lucy smiled in seeing her stepfather. "Hullo, Frank," she said pleasantly.

Frank seemed confused. "Erm, hullo, Lucy." Once both of the riders were inside, he asked, "So, are you two headed home?"

Edmund nodded. "Yeah. I didn't know you covered different towns."

Frank shrugged, twisting the key in the ignition. "Sometimes."

The cab ride was possibly one of the more awkward situations in Edmund's life. It seemed as though Frank honestly had no clue what to say to him, ever. Although, the man scarcely knew what to say to anyone who was more than ten years younger than him, so perhaps it would be unfair to judge the poor man.

Lucy, however, covered for them, asking how her mother was in the past few days, how she was excited for Sunday dinner, and filled the rest of the quiet space talking about Jacky, hoping to alleviate any sort of awkwardness. Although she tried, Edmund still knew exactly what Frank thought of him. He supposed he would have to get used to it.

Spring passed and turned into summer. A gray, and rainy summer, but summer nonetheless. Lucy grew bigger every week, and with a new quirk of her pregnancy. Sometimes she would crave strange things at strange hours, other times her feet would be too sore to go about properly, her mood swings were just as erratic as before. Just as James Martin had predicted, she had the urge one week to reorganize the entire house. She moved small things out of the way or otherwise threw them away, she placed the sofa and chairs in new positions, moved the dining table closer to the wall, and then back out into the center o the room again, and rearranged the books on the shelf just for the sake of doing it. If there was one thing that Edmund could count on in those summer months, was that when he returned home from a day of filing and organizing, nothing would be as he had left it.

June and July sped by as though they were in a race, tied for first, Lucy thought as she ripped off the last page of the calendar. "August," she said, smiling. "Ed, this is it."

Edmund was currently enjoying a cup of tea with his breakfast and didn't seem to understand. "What do you mean?"

"I'm due next week!" Lucy laughed. "Don't you remember when the doctor said? August fifteenth?"

"Oh, yeah." Edmund said, shaking himself completely awake. "That's really soon. It seems like you've only been pregnant for a few weeks."

Lucy bit her lip, "Eight months. Honestly, I'll be happy when I'm done. I feel like the baby's taken over my body completely."

Edmund chuckled. Honestly, Lucy was so tiny naturally that the only part of her stomach did literally take up the majority of her body, although it seemed even bigger lately since it suddenly dropped lower. At times, he was surprised that she managed to walk, but he had learned after eight months not to say anything about the size of his wife. Instead, he said, "Well, he'll be a tall bloke, I'll imagine."

Raising her brow, Lucy asked, "And what if it's a girl?"

Patting his wife's stomach, Edmund called down towards it, "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Laughing, Lucy grabbed her husband's hands, and kissed him. "So, do you have to work today?"

Edmund shook his head, "I'm all yours."

No sooner, had he spoken than there came a few knocks at the front door. Edmund walked towards the door, and pulled it open to find nobody there.

"Erm, Lucy?" he asked, brining in a stuffed rabbit wearing a blue waistcoat. "What is this?"

Lucy blinked at the plaything. "Alice?" she said. "Is Alice at the door?"

Edmund shook his head, "Nobody was at the door."

It was then that a deeper voice sounded from the opposite end of the room. "And that's what you get for not lockin' your doors."

"Dawkins?" Edmund turned around to see his snub-nosed friend. "How on earth did you get here?"

"A bus?"

"No! I meant, how did you get in my house?" Edmund said, rolling his eyes.

Dawkins gave a grin. "I walked in. You really should lock your doors."

Lucy poked her head around her husband's shoulder. "Did you come alone, Stephen? Or is Alice with you?"

"Behind you," Alice's voice came, happily from right behind Lucy.

Spinning around, Lucy embraced her friend. "Oh, my goodness!" She smiled, "What are you doing here?"

"I just got back from holiday with my sister," Alice explained. "And I realized I haven't come in to visit you before school yet. Mum didn't want me to come here, so I talked to Dawkins and we decided to take a short visit. Oh, my! I can see the baby's in a hurry now."

At this time, the girls looked about to find that the boys had somehow evacuated the room, possibly to go about the yard to smoke and leave the girls to themselves.

Lucy furrowed her brows, waddling to one of the armchairs to sit down. "What do you mean your mum didn't want you to come here?"

Alice shrugged, sitting across from her friends. "Mum's always tried to control who I spend time with. She doesn't want me spending time with someone who got pregnant so young, I should think. I don't care what she says. I mean, believe me, if she cared as much as she says she does, I wouldn't be told the way I can and cannot think. Besides," she blushed, mumbling the secret that Lucy and everyone else had guessed but never confirmed, "it's not as though either of us can wear white. At least honestly."

Lucy put her hands on her friend's, and Alice continued.

"Oh, speaking of that, Marjorie called me a few weeks ago. She's sorry, but can't bring herself to face you. She wanted me to tell you."

With her mouth a thin line, Lucy crossed her arms at her chest. "I'm not sure if I can. Maybe if she tells me to my face, but honestly, I'm unsure."

"Nobody blames you," Alice said. "I would've lost my temper in a heartbeat, and never looked her way again."

While Alice was right in her way, Lucy couldn't help but wonder. The last time she had gotten mad at Marjorie, the last time she was in Narnia and had used a magic book to spy on her, Aslan had made it rather easy for Lucy to forgive her. But, this time, it would be harder than ever before. She wondered, would Aslan be angry? Should she ought to just forgive Marjorie? Was it possible?

"Well, let's not talk about this. How has it been? These last few months, getting close to having a baby and everything?" Alice said, propping her elbows on the arm of the chair and resting her chin in the palms of her hands.

Lucy laughed. "My back's been sore as anything I've ever experienced, getting around is a pain, I have to pee every five minutes, my hormones have been off the wall, and I've been craving sauerkraut for eight months. Other than that? I'm absolutely, entirely, and completely excited."

Alice and Dawkins stayed the next few days, visiting with their friends. Miriam and James found out soon after that they were there, and even Helen and Frank found out, and they were invited to dinner with both families. Needless to say, Dawkins didn't exactly impress the Martins, although he was on his best behavior and did not earn their hate.

August fifth came around, coming around to be a shockingly bright and sunny day. Miriam allowed Lucy to not come and clean, mostly because the latter was so incredibly pregnant that she wouldn't be able to dust a top shelf without knocking everything down on the lower shelves. Instead, the older woman worked happily in her big garden while the maid polished and waxed indoors.

Lucy had spent the morning out in front of the house, with Jacky yipping and barking happily in front of them, visiting with Alice.

Realizing she had not asked this of Alice yet, she checked to make sure that Dawkins was still snoring on the sofa, before she asked. "So, what's going on with you and Stephen?"

Alice blushed. "I don't know. He just sort of started writing to me over the summer, and now we're here."

"I'm happy for you," Lucy said. "You two like each other; you ought to be together."

"We're not together yet," Alice reminded her friend. "But, I'm rather happy, too. I have to laugh though, I'm madder than a box of frogs, and he's a mad thief."

Lucy simply smiled.

By noon, Dawkins had woken up, and after finding that Edmund had left him at the mercy of the women to work, seemed a bit out of place, as though he didn't know what to do. Thankfully, he was able to not try for conversation, as Lucy and Alice set about to make lunch.

Lucy was reaching for a plate in the cupboard, when suddenly she doubled over, crying out in pain.

"Lucy!" Alice called, "Are you all right?"

Cringing, Lucy grinded her teeth together. "I think it's coming."

"What?" Dawkins screamed, standing up.

Lucy panted. "Stephen, call Edmund."

"We've got to get her to the hospital," Alice said.

Stephen ran out to the yard, and called out, "Oi! Mrs. Martin Senior! Lucy's goin'. Oh, she's goin' all right."

Miriam snapped up, and, in two seconds, was running across the yard, and ran into the house, yelling back to Stephen, "Get a car!"

"What car?" Dawkins cried out exasperatedly, but ran next door, where he saw the neighbor had a rather handsome vehicle.

Letting himself in, Dawkins found the car keys on a peg above the door. Pocketing them, he sauntered into the sitting room, where he found an older gentleman and his rather young wife (he did not know this, but it was, in fact, one of the members of Miriam's garden club) were having afternoon tea.

"Afternoon," Dawkins said, waving before starting to leave the room immediately. "Your neighbor, Lucy Rosen—I mean, Martin, is about to bring a child into this very world, so I have to take your car and get her to the hospital. Thanks for your donation, I'll have it back."

Dawkins drove the car the few meters down the street, crossing over the line twice, and swerving the whole way, before parking it into the Martin's driveway crookedly. Alice came running with a packed carpetbag in her hands, and threw it into the vehicle, Miriam came out with Lucy, and all three women piled into the car.

"Ready?" Dawkins asked, letting up from the gas.

"Did you call Edmund?" Lucy wanted to know.

"I'll call when we get there."

Miriam intervened here, "Have you ever driven before?"

"Never," Stephen contested. "Hold on."

The car sped through the streets, constantly crossing the lines, and paying absolutely no heed to any sort of traffic direction or signs, causing many passersby to stare or throw some offensive gestures to him. None of the passengers seemed to notice, as Lucy was having another contraction and gritting her teeth.

Eventually, they ran in through the doors of the hospital. Everything was covered in white, and shining. Miriam ran to the front desk. "Lucy Martin," she said, gesturing to the groaning girl. "She's going into labor."

The receptionist opened a file and looked through it. After two seconds, she nodded, stood, and rolled a wheelchair to Lucy. "Sit down, Mrs. Martin," she said, and once Lucy obliged, started rolling her in the other direction, calling out, "There's a waiting room down the hall."

Miriam turned to the young children, "I'm going to get a cab and go find Helen. Stephen, you call the _Warren Inkling Prosecution Firm_, ask for Johnson. You'll get Edmund."

As Miriam Martin turned around and left the hospital once more, Dawkins turned to Alice. "Johnson?" he blinked.

Alice shrugged, and the two filed into the empty waiting room. There were a few magazines, a short bookshelf with a Bible and a few other classics tucked away, and some hard wooden chairs. Most importantly, however, there was a payphone. Dawkins had passed by a few visiting fellows on the way in, and brought out the change to use the phone, obviously having gotten it from those fellows. After being directed to the firm from the operator, Dawkins asked for Johnson.

"Warren Inkling Prosecution Firm," a familiar, but bored voice said. It sounded quite like the speaker had sounded in French class. "Mr. Johnson's office."

"Ed?" Dawkins asked, laughing slightly. "You're a _secretary? _That's the big, important job you were bragging you had?"

"Dawkins?" Edmund asked, hushing his tone. "What are you doing? I'm not supposed to take my own calls at work. And my job is important!"

"Fine, fine." Dawkins chuckled. "Look, you got to come down here."

"Down where?"

"The hospital. Lucy went into labor a little while back."

"WHAT?"

Immediately after this, Stephen heard the phone slam down, and he was instantly disconnected. Putting the phone away, Dawkins smirked to himself. "I think he's gonna be here soon."

XXXXXXXX

Edmund ran through the doors, and slid a few inches, ramming into the front desk. "Lucy Martin!" he said, "Lucy Martin. Is she okay?"

The receptionist looked up at him, from under her white bonnet. "You are?"

"I'm Edmund Martin. Her husband."

Looking at the folder, the receptionist nodded. "That's what it says her husband's name is," she offered a smile. "She's just got admitted into the birthing room. It won't be very long now, Mr. Martin. The waiting room is down the hall, a nurse will come in to tell you how things go over."

Edmund nodded and walked apprehensively into the waiting room. He was going to thank Dawkins for calling him, and for getting his wife to the hospital, but in seeing that his friend was flirting rather shamelessly with Alice Little, he decided not to be a nuisance.

"At least they're having fun," he muttered to himself, and beginning to pace frantically.

"You won't ease your mind that way," James muttered, taking a seat well away from the younger two in the room.

Picking at his cuticles, Edmund rebutted, "Well, what am I supposed to do?"

"Sit down?" James offered, and then muttered, "I wonder where your mother's gone off to…"

Edmund gaped. "You can't tell me you were completely calm when Mum was having me, can you?"

Chuckling, James said, "I was a wreck. More than you, I think. I ran out of court in mid-sentence to my client, since I got the call on the recess. My partner took the rest of the case. I kept on pacing and knocking at the wall, and I didn't realize how forcefully until the nurse came in, and had me wash my hands before I got to hold you. My knuckles and the wall were both covered in blood."

Frowning, Edmund stopped pacing. "Dad," he said slowly. "What if I can't do this?"

"Do what?"

"Be a father. What if I mess up? And what if I can't do it? If the baby hates me?" He coughed, and then said slowly, remembering how everyone had been paralleling his situation with Lucy to Helen's situation with her late husband. "What if I hurt them?"

James looked startled. "Edmund, you're not going to hurt anybody. Lucy's father was always messed up; becoming a father didn't turn him. I went to secondary school with the both of them, and he was in my class. He came to class drunk sometimes. I'm not so sure that Lucy was born through consent. Though, that's hardly the point. That was the past. Keep on going. You won't be like he was."

Edmund still seemed troubled. "Even if I don't in that way, what if I mess up?"

"You will." James's answer came. "You'll mess up, better get used to it. You'll forget a birthday (and may God have mercy on you if it's Lucy's), or work late on Christmas. You'll think the baby can walk by itself and let go of its hand, only to have it tumble to the ground on its bottom crying. They'll cry and scream and try to get you to buy them candy when you know they shouldn't have more sugar, or worse, actually buy them the sweets only to get yelled at by your wife. You'll use some harsh words when dealing with your child. You'll forget to censor what you say, and accidentally teach your two-year-old some colorful phrases…"

"So that's how I learned to swear in French," Edmund mulled, grinning slightly.

James shook his head, grinning, and then said, "In all seriousness, Ed, the biggest mistake you can make is not being there to catch the moments before they fade. And then next thing you know, you're sitting in here, talking this through to your son, or son-in-law."

Edmund nodded slightly, and looked towards the door to see his mother and Helen coming into the room. Helen was in her uniform, having obviously left work early to be there. The women began talking excitedly to each other, and Edmund soon began pacing again.

The clock could not tick any slower, he thought. Pacing madly, tearing away at his cuticles, and looking up at the clock every few seconds. It was madness. He had no idea what was going on, and he was terrified.

Then, finally, the moment came when the nurse arrived into the room, in her crisp white bonnet and dress. "Mr. Martin?" she said.

Both Edmund and James looked up. "Not _you_, Mr. Martin, _me_, Mr. Martin," Edmund mumbled to his father.

"Yes?" Edmund then said, stepping towards the nurse, unable to read her face.

"Congratulations, Mr. Martin," the nurse smiled. "You have a healthy daughter."

Edmund's worried face melted away, now positively beaming. A girl. After approximately fourteen years of marriage, (though much of it was not spent trying to have a baby), he finally had a daughter. It almost seemed unreal.

"And Lucy?" he asked, hoping to wipe away the last remainder of concern that hung in the corner of his mind.

"Tired," the nurse said, "but well."

"May I see them, now?" Edmund asked, hopefully.

"Of course, sir," the nurse said, "Come with me."

Edmund followed the nurse down the hallway, and entered a little, but brightly lit room. There, sitting in a big bed, propped up by the mattress and pillows, sat the love of his life, sweaty and flushed, but grinning broader than he had seen in a long time, and with a certain spark he had never seen before. In her tired arms, wrapped up in a pink blanket, he saw a little red face, with a whole mess of black hair on her head.

Lucy looked up, her beam just getting wider. "Ed," she breathed, seeing her husband coming towards her. He kissed her softly, and then sat down on the side of the bed.

Continuing to look down at the baby, Lucy moved the blanket out of the little being's face, "Elise," she cooed. "Do you want to meet your daddy?"

Elise, with her tired eyes shut tight, slightly yawned and stuck the whole of her little pink tongue out of her lips. Edmund laughed, "I'm not sure if that was a no or a yes."

"Hold her, Edmund," Lucy said, preparing to transfer the baby's delicate body to her husband's.

Edmund suddenly felt nervous: Elise was so tiny, so fragile. Lucy seemed to notice, and she said calmly, "She's a baby. She isn't going to break."

Nodding, Edmund took the baby from his wife's arms, careful to support her little head. With the transfer, Elise's eyes slowly opened, staring dumbly at him.

Lucy smiled. "Can you see it, Ed? She's got your big brown eyes."

Edmund smiled, nodded, and then turned to the bundle in his arms, "Elise, did Mummy and I wake you up? You were having a nice sleep, and then Mummy moved. Let me tell you right now, it's all Mummy's fault. Just remember that for the rest of your life." He exchanged a playful glance with his wife, and then turned back to Elise, "You're a very pretty little baby. I think you're going to end up looking like your mother. Heh, do you know what? I'll tell you a secret. We've waited fourteen years for you, baby."

Lucy reached over, and put her index finger on Elise's hand, whereupon the baby firmly grasped it, sticking her tongue out again, before putting it in again. Tiredly, Lucy sat up, and leaned on her husband's shoulder, with her baby still clinging onto her finger. "I can't believe we're actually here," she said softly. "After all of this time…"

Edmund didn't look away from his baby, until Elise closed her eyes slowly, returning to the land of nod. When she did, Edmund looked again to Lucy, who was resting her head on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, but found he didn't have the words. He couldn't possibly explain everything; how much he loved her, how much he loved Elise, and how purely terrified he was of the rest of his life.

Lucy met his eyes, and seeming to read his mind, said, "I know, and me too."


	17. Till Death?

**Chapter Seventeen  
><strong>**Till Death? **

Time passed, altogether, too quickly, nineteen-year-old Edmund thought as he opened the door, coming home from another long day of work; he had been forced to work late, and it was well past suppertime. Shaking his head slowly as his dark-haired daughter stood and walked, laughing happily into her mother's arms. Wasn't she only just that little pink bundle in the hospital?

Lucy gasped happily, "Elise! Is Dad home?" When the one-year-old gave no response, Lucy repeated, "Elise. Did Dad come home from work?"

Jumping a little with the support of her mother, Elise shouted, "'Es! 'Es!"

Edmund smiled, stepping into the sitting room, "And did Mummy and Elise have a good day?"

"'Es! 'Es!" Elise chimed.

Turning his attention to his wife, Edmund kissed her hello, asking her, "Did you go over to Mum's to work today?"

Lucy nodded, and then laughed. "Elise got into everything. I had to stay almost an hour later than I usually do just to clean up after her."

Edmund chuckled back; "She's certainly got a lot of you in her."

Elise certainly took after Edmund in physical appearance, with dark doe eyes and dark hair, but she took after her mother in incessant flightiness

"Mummy!" Elise said, almost running to the opposite wall on her little legs, pointing to something on the table. "Whas tat?"

"That's a book." Lucy said, "And do you know where you're going now? It's bedtime."

Without another word, Elise started towards the stairs, and waited patiently for her father to come and pick her up. He balanced his daughter on his hip, carrying her up to her nursery. She was already in her little pajamas, and it appeared as though Lucy had already changed her. Thus, he called down the stairs, "Lu! Did you already give her her nighttime bottle or are we waiting for that?"

Lucy was up the stairs in what seemed like the next second, holding a bottle in her hand. Elise gurgled happily, and reached for it. She was big enough to hold her own bottle but Edmund still grabbed the end of it to keep air bubbles from developing. He sat down on the rocking chair and slowly rocked his daughter as she drank her nighttime bottle. Once she was through, she cast it to the ground, and with a sigh, rested her little head on her father's chest.

Edmund rocked his baby for a few minutes, giving her a clean dummy to suck on and her stuffed waistcoat-wearing rabbit. Afterward, he carefully put Elise into her cot, whereupon the baby rolled over and went to sleep rather promptly.

He rubbed the back of his neck, in returning to his own bedroom, ready to fall over and sleep himself. Lucy had just changed into her nightgown and was fastening her dressing gown around her waist when she noticed Edmund's uncomfortable way of walking in.

"Sore?" Lucy asked, propping herself up on the bed. When Edmund attempted to manage a nod, but was unable for his sore neck, she patted the bedspread in front of him. "Lay down; I'm no good at this, but I can try."

"That's what I get for typing all day," Edmund muttered, but then smirked. "Suddenly, I'm less tired."

Lucy rolled her eyes, but smiled, and tried to knead away the knots in her husband's neck, somewhat unsuccessfully. Edmund laid halfway on Lucy's lap, and she against a stack of pillows. They were both about to drift off into the land of nod, when from down the hall, Elise burst into a terrible fit of crying.

"You'd think after a year we'd be used to being interrupted as soon as we're comfortable." Edmund sighed. "Is it my turn?"

Lucy nodded. "I'll just be going to sleep now, love. I'll see you in the morning."

XXXXXX

It was the first time that they had left Elise behind with Miriam and James. To say that Lucy was all right with the matter would be one of the biggest lies of the century. They had decided to go to and visit the friends of Narnia without their daughter, for although the friends did enjoy Elise (or so they made it seem), the fact that Edmund and Lucy had not been without her and with their own friends or completely alone with each other in almost a year told them that they did have to do this.

The whole time going in, Lucy muttered to herself little things, perhaps she might have forgotten to tell Miriam, or things she was going to miss. Edmund tried to be tolerant, but the way he saw it was that they would be back in a matter of two days, and while it was hard, to think of it like a holiday. Lucy disagreed vastly with this viewpoint.

Of course, she didn't complain when, on their night away at a hotel, they were actually able to have some foreplay rather than just have to rush with everything for fear of Elise crying and needing them just that very second.

During the day, however, Lucy kept on going back to focus on Elise, which of course, brought their daughter to Edmund's mind, which made it difficult to focus on anything else. However, it seemed as soon as the friends began to talk of Narnia, some of Lucy's concern seemed to melt away. She relished the memories and the tales retold. Edmund was happy to see some spark back into his wife's eyes.

He chuckled and shook his head, digging into lunch, still in animated conversation. However, just as soon a they all finished, a silvery, translucent figure appeared at the table.

Jill Pole screamed, and Lucy sprang to her feet, as did Eustace. Polly Plummer gasped, and the Professor dropped his glass; it shattered as it hit the floor. Edmund started dumbly at the translucent figure. It was a man; a man in shockingly Narnian clothes.

Peter was the one to use his voice. "Speak, if you're not a phantom or a dream. You have a Narnian look about you and we are the seven friends of Narnia."

The silvery figure opened his mouth, but no noise came. Lucy looked rather discouraged.

Peter stood. "Shadow or spirit or whatever you are, if you are from Narnia, I charge you in the name of Aslan, speak to me. I am Peter the High King!"

Edmund blinked, and in that blink, he found that the silvery figure seemed to dull a moment. It was then that Lucy again spoke his mind, "Look!" she cried, "It's fading!"

Eustace spoke next, "It's melting away," and at the same moment, a few others gave their opinions of the matter.

"It's vanishing!"

"Well, it's gone now," Edmund, said slowly, staring at where the silvery figure had been. "Something's wrong here."

The rest of the friends of Narnia agreed. Aslan must have sent the silvery figure, whoever he was, to get their assistance.

Jill shook her head. "We just don't know how to get back to Narnia. I wish he had told us something, or given us a clue on how we could get there."

Polly nodded sadly, but then an idea came to mind. "Perhaps…Digory, do you still have them?"

The Professor then swallowed, and said, "I buried them a long time ago, but I suppose nothing stays buried for long. We must go and find the Magic Rings."

XXXXXX

Edmund was tired beyond belief as he boarded the train beside Peter. Inside a little bag in Peter's grasp, held the Magic Rings. It hadn't been easy getting them, but no one had questioned them, presuming they were workmen. At this point, he was mostly just tired and dirty. There was absolutely nothing he would have liked better than to crawl back home, have a nice hot bath, and lay under the covers. Of course, Elise would never allow him more than two hours of peace, and that was if she by chance was having a good nap, but two hours he was willing to have.

Peter was silent, reflecting. Eventually he said, "How did you do it, Ed? Stay with her, I mean."

Slightly taken aback, Edmund considered Peter's question. Eventually, he said, "It might've just been raw luck, Pete. She lived across from me, you know. I'm not so sure we would have made it this far if Lucy hadn't been so close all the time."

"You don't think it was at all because she wasn't willing to let you go?" Peter said, tapping his heel on the ground, speaking was somewhat difficult for him. "I mean…I visited Su at least once every year, but she still forgot…"

Edmund frowned. "Maybe she was afraid to admit that she lost what she had once had."

"And so she made it so she lost literally everything?"

"Maybe it was easier."

Peter sighed, and looked out the window, showing he had no desire for further communication. Edmund twiddled his thumbs, and decided to have a look around to see if there was a trolley going about on this train that would be willing to let him haggle something to eat off.

Edmund never found the trolley. Instead, he managed to run right into his wife, as fate would have it. "Lucy?" he blinked. "What are you doing on here?"

"We were going to meet you," Lucy explained with a lighthearted laugh. "With Eustace and Jill and Aunt Polly and Digory. We wanted to stay together."

After a short debate, Lucy consented to going into Edmund's compartment to help keep Peter company, although the man had just about fallen asleep by the time they returned.

The train took off, passing city streets, and hills, houses, and forests. But, suddenly, something didn't feel right. Edmund looked out the window, to see a crossing in the tracks up ahead, which would have been fine if another train had not been coming straight on to the left. It wouldn't have been a big deal, if they were slowing down at all to follow the tracks that turned to the right; a sharp turn indeed, he had learned from his years at school. Not wanting to alarm his wife, but wanting to brace her for it, he asked tenderly, "Lu, don't you think we're going a bit fast?"

Lucy shrugged. "I'm not sure."

No sooner had she given her answer, than the train lurched, and the sound of scraping metal filled their ears. All three of the passengers screamed and wound up on the floor. Lucy screamed; Peter's head was bleeding, and there was a great part of the window smashed into his head.

The other train had smashed right into them; straight into their compartment and the ones neighboring it. Lucy found herself underneath a large stack of luggage with the other train pressing her farther into the floor, she felt blood gushing out of her ear. "Edmund!" she cried out.

Edmund was in a similar predicament, only with glass lodged into his face every few inches, and stuck in the door leading into the hallway. "Lucy?" he asked coughing.

"I…I," she said, trying to collect her fuzzy thoughts. "Even after we're…I'll still…I still…"

"Me too."

"And if we…if we…"

She never finished her thought, in that moment, everything faded to black.

XXXXXX

Elise Martin's parents died in the train crash of 1949. Thus, her father's parents raised her, as her maternal grandparents (or the closest thing she had to them) had also died in the crash on their way back from Helen's birthday dinner. Holidays were spent either with her mother's Uncle Jack or with Aunt Alice and Uncle Stephen. Although Alice and Stephen were unrelated to her, Elise enjoyed the fact that her parents' closest living friends still had an interest in her well-being.

She did not know her parents at all, although the few photographs she had seen of them surprised her. They were so young. Why did they have to die? She loved her grandparents, this was true, but she wanted her mother and her father to be there for her. She wanted to have the slightest idea what they were like. All they had left behind for her memories were a few old photographs left in the houses and an old dog who ran out into the street two years after they died and found himself killed underneath the wheels of a car.

Only, occasionally, when she slept, did Elise manage to spend time with her parents. Sometimes she would dream that she was in a great field with them, running and playing. In these dreams, her mother and her father became her best friends, or whatever else she wanted them to be. They were always the same age that they died, her mother was seventeen, and her father was nineteen; she started off very young compared to them, and eventually surpassed them in years, making her mother cry. They always tried to get her to run up a hill. At the top of this hill, a great big Lion waited. She would eventually follow them. Sometimes she wanted to turn back, or have a respite from the steepness, but they would not let her. Elise always got close, but always woke up before she could get to the top of the hill. Elise never figured out truly what those dreams meant. Even when she grew up, and married a man named Pevensie, having children of her own, she still had these dreams, but did not understand .

For the rest of her long and happy life, she had no clue about everything that her parents did, the great lengths they went through to be together while on this world. She would never figure out that they were still together, happy and well, waiting for her to come and see them again (although they did hope that she would take her time in getting there). However, perhaps, that's the magical thing. The love story of Edmund and Lucy Martin, however sad it may seem, was theirs and theirs alone, nobody could duplicate it, or fully understand, and that was their treasure. Eventually they would explain everything to the daughter they had waited fourteen years for. They had a love that outlasted two separate worlds and lived through death.

_Till death do us part _is a flawed vow indeed, for death is only the beginning.

**The End.**

**A/N: And there you have it. Please review on the way out, and let me know now only what you thought of this chapter, but of this fic as a whole. And stay tuned to my profile and stories for more AU Ed/Lu goodness. And cookies. Lots and lots of cookies. **


	18. Deleted Scene

**A/N: Well, hello there! I bet you weren't expecting another update for this puppy. I wasn't planning to submit this, but I found it while clearing out my folders, and thought, "Aww, hey, why not?"**

**So, what is this? This is from the initial idea of this story, my first "drafts," if you will. It's not very developed, and written in probably a total of fifteen minutes. It's a short scene, which was the original second part of the "vow renewal" chapter. What's different in this version? Mr. Rosenthal didn't die and is still around beating on Lucy and Helen. I decided to kill the guy mostly because of the reason I bring up in the story; that he'd KILL them when he found out. The quarters didn't exist (but I added them in because it didn't make sense for rich people to live across the street from somebody as poor as the Rosenthals) so the previous chapter happened at Edmund's house during a Christmas while James and Miriam went to Bath for a Christmas party with Miriam's family (Edmund had played sick). And, Mr. Rosenthal's name is William. Anybody who guesses where I got it from correctly gets a gold star. Hint: it has nothing to do with actors from the movies.**

**/!\ Minor mature content warning.**

He slid Lucy's blouse off her to find himself face to face with a series of black bruises on her tiny frame, some the size of a cricket ball. In fact, more or less, there was not a spot on her stomach or back that was unharmed.

He stepped back. "I thought you said he was getting _better_?"

"He was," Lucy said, suddenly seeming self-conscious. "I messed up."

"_What_?"

Lucy shrugged. "I didn't make the bed properly. There was a fold in the sheets, he told me. Well…he _screamed_."

Edmund stared at her, aghast. He held out his hands to her, and pulling her in to sit on his legs, he murmured, "Come here."

Lucy did so, and Edmund hesitantly went to move his hands to support her back. Noticing his expression she said, "It's fine. You can touch me; it doesn't hurt."

With the go-ahead, Edmund put his hands on her back, and held her close in to him. "Lucy," he said slowly. "You don't think that it's your fault, do you?"

Grimacing to the ground, Lucy muttered. "Well…if I had done what I was supposed to—"

Edmund cut her off. "Lucy! I don't ever want to hear you say that you think it's your fault for anything that man does to you. Don't let him make you think that. You're beautiful and strong and smart, and everything a person should be…oh, God. How could I have let this happen?"

Lucy lowered her brow, and tightened her hands on his shoulders. "You didn't let anything happen."

"You've been living in a hellhole for how long now? I've just been stupid. Look, I want you to try to move in with your Uncle Jack during holidays. I want you to go from St. Finbar's to Cambridge, back to school, no round trips to Finchley."

Lucy blinked. "What? No! I'm not doing that."

"You're getting hurt! I don't think I've ever done this before, but if you make me…well, damn it, I'm going to do it! You have to move in with Jack during holidays. I'm not giving you the choice. He'll take you in; I know he will. Anything to get you away from William."

Lucy freed one of her hands from Edmund's shoulders and grabbed his jaw, bringing their eyes level. "Edmund. Look at me. I'm not giving you up. We've just got back to something even remotely suitable for what we are. I'm not giving what we have up for a second. It's just a few small bruises."

"A few small bruises? Have you seen the size of those things?"

Lucy was adamant. "I'm not leaving. Mum needs me. And, besides, I had to leave Narnia three times; I'm not leaving you. You're the only other thing that feels like home, or feels quite as safe. All I have to do is behave…"

"I am getting you out of that house, if it's the last thing that I do. I just don't understand why you want to stay."

Lucy frowned. "I can't explain it. I feel like I deserve to be there. Like, it's something I need to do; like I've done something bad and I'm paying a penance."

Edmund held her closer to him, careful not to touch her more painful-looking bruises. "You don't.

"Can we not talk about this?" Lucy said, pleadingly. "Not right now. I'll explain tomorrow. I promise."

"Lucy, I can't concentrate on anything right now. You're covered in bruises."

She shrugged, absently. "Please? Come on."

She turned closer to him and straddled his knees, leaning over his chest, toppling him onto his back. Kissing him and running her lips on neck and chest until he finally gave in, and rolled her onto her back underneath him, rocking his hips with hers, pressing his lips from hers, to her chin, and continued on from there, listening to the effect he had on her.

By two that morning, Edmund found his head resting on Lucy's stomach, watching her sleep and feeling her stomach rise and fall against his ear. She had haphazardly thrown on his shirt earlier in the night, and many of the buttons were still undone around her collarbone, not that he minded. He had a passing thought to reach out and touch her messy hair, but a fear that it might wake her up made him control his hands from doing so.

She looked so peaceful; he didn't want to mess that up. Particularly considering that nagging part of his brain, the one that wanted to shake her to consciousness and demand answers. He knew he would, he had vowed himself that earlier, but he just didn't want to right then.

Getting up slowly, he tried not to move the mattress as his feet hit the soft wool of his rug. Lucy shifted slightly, and he held his breath. When she turned around, he smiled slightly as he slid into his pajama pants, and headed down the stairs.

Everything looked different that morning; even the familiar sight of his living room seemed different. Moreover, he was conflicted about just about everything. Grabbing a package of cigarettes off the counter, he struck a match and stuck the joint between his teeth, the hot smoke calming him as it cascaded down to his lungs.

He made his way to the window facing his back lawn; a blanket of white faced him behind the blurred reflection of the Christmas tree against the far wall.

He stood there for what seemed like days, thinking the same thing over and over again, until he saw another murky figure in the window. Lucy approached him from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist, and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked softly after a moment.

Edmund turned around to face her, "Why would I be?"

Lucy shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose I'm a little paranoid."

Shaking his head, Edmund removed the cigarette from his mouth and held it out to Lucy as she came around to stand beside him, "Calm down, Love."

She sighed and took it, taking a deep breath; she allowed the smoke to expel from her lungs completely before speaking again, "I'm not leaving."

"I'm not letting him hurt you anymore."

Lucy blinked, and Edmund noticed a wetness building up in her eyes as she took another drag from the joint.

Edmund rubbed his hand around her forearm, "Why do you just stand around with this? You know it's not your fault."

"I don't. When I behave, I'm fine. But, when I mess up…"

It hurt him like hell to hear her talking like that. What happened to Lucy the Valiant? He shook his head. "When have you ever misbehaved? Lucy, please, just go, leave this place. You never have to go through with any of it again."

Lucy's face scrunched up, "I've got a headache." She let out a hollow chuckle. "I never smoke this much."

Edmund snatched the joint from between his wife's fingers, by this time; he was tearing up as well. "I'm trying to help you. Why do you insist on living through hell? Do you think I don't know what happens across the street? Do you think I'm all right with any of it? That the fact I can't do anything doesn't kill me? You didn't bleed last night, do you think I didn't notice? I've never wanted to kill anyone this badly. I want to see your father dead for what he does to you."

Bawling by this point, Lucy left his side to collapse on the sofa. "Everything I do is wrong. If you can't bounce a coin off the bed it's ten hits. Ten. I hate coming home, but if it means I can be with you, it's worth it. Why can't you understand that this is the only time I do anything right? I feel right. Don't take me away from you, Ed."

Edmund frowned. "Then marry me here. Officially in England."

He thought he saw a new wetness spring up to her eyes. "We've covered this before—I'll never get permission, and since I'm underage…"

She faded, and Edmund thought. An idea had sprung up to his head, and he couldn't help but share it. Slowly, and tentatively, he formed his question, "What if you're pregnant?"

**A/N: And there's the deleted scene. ;)**


End file.
